The Farm
by DemigoddesKat
Summary: After a harrowing mission that claimed the lives of his team, CIA Special Agent Charles Carmichael is reassigned to train recruits at the Farm. Last place he wants to be, until he meets a beautiful recruit named Sam
1. Chapter 1

The Farm

One

"_Wheels up, first thing in the morning"_, the General had said. CIA Special Agent Charles Carmichael (or Chuck Bartowski, depending on who you asked) wasn't usually excited about missions.

He'd been going on his own missions since he was seventeen. Granted, he was only twenty-three, but still most spies weren't even recruited until they were his current age.

But when you come from a spy legacy dating back to the Culper Ring, you tended to advance quickly in the world of international espionage.

Chuck's parents were spies, his grandparents, great-parents ectera.

Being a spy came naturally to him. And in his six years of being an _**official **_agent (he'd been going on missions unofficially since he was five), he had already distinguished himself at the best. The absolute best.

So needless to say, missions were a common occurrence in his life.

But this particular mission was special, and "special" wasn't a word Chuck used very often. Very few things were special to him: his family, his friends, his country, his girl.

He smiled at the thought of her, remembered that her golden head was resting on his shoulder, their fingers entwined, as the Gulfstream flew them to their newest assignment.

He smiled as she got up to get a glass of water, watched her as she moved with his adoring brown eyes. God, he loved this woman.

She had saved him. Sarah Walker (he was still getting used to calling her that) had saved his life.

He knew she was going through a rough time (Red Tests tended to do that to a person), and he vowed to help her through it. She was only nineteen, but, it seemed as if she had gotten much older in a couple of weeks.

But training to be a Special Agent in the CIA was designed to mature people, turn them into operatives. But Sarah had to grow up at a very early age.

He walked up behind her, encircling her in his arms. "I love you," he whispered, before kissing her cheek.

Her sapphire eyes glowed up at him. "I love you too." She turned her face to him just enough to lean in and capture his lips in a soft, tender kiss.

He spun her in his arms, to pull her deeper into the kiss, his arms encircling her waist. She moaned gently as her fingers wound their way into his close-cropped curls.

Chuck was thankful that it was a long flight, because right now, espionage was the farthest thing from his mind. His hands creeped up from her waist to cup her breasts, caressing them through the fabric.

She moaned, then reluctantly pulled her lips away from his. "I have a surprise for you," she whispered huskily.

He couldn't help but grin at that. "Do you really?"

"Yup," she said softly as she took his hands in her to lead him to the back of the plane, where their bedroom was located.

Their newly outfitted Gulfstream was more of a house in the sky. Fully stocked with a gourmet kitchen, gameroom (Chuck had insisted on that), and a master suite.

Most spies were granted such luxurious digs for their private jets.

But most spies weren't Chuck and Sarah.

And at the moment, neither of them were thinking about the objective of their next mission.

Sarah was walking them to the bedroom at a snail's pace, teasing him with sultry, seductive looks all the way. And Chuck, well he was fighting a strong urge to forget the bedroom, throw her up against the wall, and take her right there.

When they finally reached the bedroom, Sarah didn't speed things up, instead she pulled away from Chuck and slowly kicked off her black stilettos, unbuttoned her gray blouse, and slid out of her gray skirt to reveal a very familiar, almost infamous, lacy purple nightgown.

It was Chuck's favorite, for many, many reasons. "You're trying to kill me," he whispered to her when she finally stepped back in his arms.

"No," she said playfully. "You'd be dead already." He smiled and took a moment just to look at her, she was a vision.

"Chuck, stop staring at me," she told him.

"Isn't the whole point of this outfit for me to stare?"

"No, the point is for you take it off."

Chuck had no objections to that plan, and decided enough chitchat. He kissed her, intensely and passionately. His hands worked their way down from her face to her smooth thighs and back again.

She ground herself into him, feeling how hard he was through his pants and quickly decided he was wearing too many clothes.

She made quick work of the buttons on his shirt, the feel of his bare chest, sending a thrill straight to her soaking pussy. She did the same with his belt and pants, as he kicked them off with ease.

He picked her up, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist and walked them over to the bed, pulling her nightie off on the way.

He placed her gently on the bed, and pulled off his boxers. He hovered over, brushing a strand of hair out of her face, before planting a delicate kiss on her lips, as he positioned himself between her legs.

He planted a trail of kisses down her neck, he gently licked the kiss between her breasts, before taking one nipple in his mouth, sucking biting gently, making her wetter and wetter.

"Chuck," she breathed huskily. He smiled before giving the same attention to her other breast. One of his hands creeped down between her legs, fingering her clit.

"God, you're so wet," he mumbled. He teased, massassing her clit with his forefingers, sending a wave of pleasure shooting through her.

"Chuck, I want you inside me," she mumbled as her hands gripped his curls.

Chuck nodded, aligning their thighs, and entering her quickly.

He loved watching her face as he filled her to the hilt. He started thrusting slowly, and built up speed at her request.

"Chuck, Chuck, Chuck," his name, forever on her lips. He felt her tighten around him; she was close. So was he.

Her sapphire eyes went even wider as she climaxed, clenching around him, quickening his release as he spilled into her, with a final thrust.

He smiled widely at her, as he pulled out of her, kissing her lips and wrapping his arms around her, as they both bathed in the afterglow.

Twenty minutes later, neither one of them had moved. Of course, Sarah was always reluctant to leave Chuck's arms. He just made her feel so safe, so treasured. She would've stay liked that with him forever, if she could've.

He looked over at her, she had that look on her face, that one she always got when she was in deep thought. "Penny for your thoughts," he asked.

"I was thinking about you," she said with a smile. "Us. How this all happened. Started."

"Yeah, that is an interesting story, isn't it?" he said, a smile crossing his lips.

"One for the record books."

_**1 Year and 5 Months earlier**_

**Cairo, Egypt**

Charles Carmichael, and his team, Agent Len Davis, Agent Blaine Waters, and Agent Cal Cross, had been captured.

They had been after the ruthless Egyptian arms dealer, Faruak Vosloo, for months. They'd finally reached his base, his headquarters.

The schematics had shown the underground bunker to be protected by fairly minimal security. But the schematics had been wrong.

The place was _**crawling**_ with bad guys, bad guys carring semi-automatic assault rifles.

All that was par for the course for one of the CIA's best teams. But some things you just couldn't see coming.

There were far too many of them. Outmanned and outgunned, they'd surrendered.

But not before, Chuck had alerted the nearest NSA Black Ops Team that they were in serious danger.

But Vosloo was not a patient man. Angered by the team's unwillingness to talk after three rounds of intense, brutal torture, he'd ordered Davis, Waters, and Cross killed by firing squad.

He was about to do the same to Charles, but the calvary had came before he had a chance.

The Black Ops team was headed up by Chuck's old friend, John Casey.

When he'd pulled a battered and bruised Chuck from the rubble of that compound, he could tell that he was looking at a changed man.

"Chuck," he grunted. "Are you all right?"

Chuck was shellshocked, eyes burning at the first sight of sunlight in in 48 hours. All he could think about was his team, falling under the hail of bullets.

"Oh, God," was the only thing he said. They'd pulled him into the helicopter, tending to his wounds.

Casey looked at him with concern. Chuck had only said two words. Anyone who knew him knew he couldn't shut up for more than ten seconds.

But he sat, stone silent, as he was treated for his injuries and led safely back to U.S. soil.

The painkillers and bandages helped the visible blows, but everyone could tell that the inner ones went much, much deeper.

Three months after that, Chuck returned to Langley for reassignment. His vacation was much needed, but he was now ready to get back to work.

But he didn't want a team. He could handle solo missions. He would. No one else was dying on his missions.

He was to meet his parents, and other high-ranking CIA officials for a briefing for his new assignment.

He walked through the Farm, admiring the place. It felt good to be home. He'd spent the last three months on a beach, with nothing but his thoughts.

His nightmarish thoughts. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the bloodied bodies of his former team. It haunted him.

He wanted nothing more than to put it behind him, and the best way to do that was with a mission. Something exciting, thrilling, that would occupy his thoughts completely.

His parents, Agents Frost and Orion, a.k.a. Steven and Mary Bartowski, had been quite worried about him after the ordeal. He had to admit, that he was a good liar. By this time, he'd completely fooled him that he was fine, completely over what happened.

His sister, Ellie, the only person in the family not involved the in the spy life, was less convinced. She knew Chuck better than anyone. She could size him up instantly.

And when she'd visited him on his vacation, she could tell that something deeper was going on. And she'd promptly informed her parents that she thought Chuck needed more time.

After consulting with Morgan Grimes, Chuck's best friend and fellow agent, the family had agreed: Chuck did need more time. They just had to figure out how to tell him that.

Chuck reported to the office of General D. Beckman at 0800.

His parents, his two best friends, Morgan and Bryce Larkin were there. So was Casey. He sighed. He knew was this was: an ambush.

General Beckman was also there. "Agent Carmichael, I trust you're well," she said. "Please sit."

He looked over at his family and friends, and their well-practiced emotionless faces as he took his seat. _Great, _he thought, _they're up to something._

"We have your new mission," the General said. "Something stateside." She pushed a folder labeled TOP SECRET across the desk to him.

He opened it and stared for a few moments. He honestly couldn't believe his eyes. "Recruit training?" he asked, shocked. "You can't be serious."

"We are, Charles," his father told him. "It's a good assignment."

"Yeah, for retirees. Dad, I need to be out in the field. I'm an operative. That's where I belong."

"Charles," Mary said softly. "A new mission is…a lot of…stress."

Chuck rolled his eyes. "Oh, now I get it. You're worried about me. I'm fine. I'm ready to be back out there.

"Chuck," Casey said sternly. "You're not."

"Colonel's right," Beckman interjected. "After all, you haven't even hinted at who you'd like to be on your new team."

"I'm not working with a team. I'll be fine solo."

Simulatenous sighs echoed in the room.

"Chuck, buddy," Morgan said. "You know, you've been through a lot. It might not be such a bad idea to wait a while."

"Who's side are you on, buddy?"

"I'm always on your side, buddy, but I think they're right."

"They are," Bryce said with finality. Bryce and Chuck had gone to college together. It was at Chuck's suggestion that Bryce be recruited into the CIA.

"I'm fine," Chuck repeated. "Okay, I spent a lot of time clearing my head, putting Cairo behind me. I'm ready. Give me a real mission."

"Chuck, you complete this, and you go right back into the field," his dad said. "And you get your pick of agents, including the recruits."

"I'm ready for a field mission now."

"You have your mission, Agent Carmichael," Beckman deadpanned. "It's either you train the recruits, or you take another vacation. An idenifite one."

_I can't believe I'm here,_ Chuck thought with a sigh. He was a spy, damn, a trained assassin, a special operative. He was practically James fucking Bond himself, and he was training.

He thought of the old saying 'those who can't do, teach.' But he could do, he was ready to do. And he just looked on in jealously as Bryce, Morgan and Casey flew off to their fancy international assignments.

While he was stuck at the Farm, going to waste. But Chuck wasn't suited for bitterness, sulkiness, sure. But not bitterness.

There was a part of him, that wanted to sit at home in his pajamas eating cheese puffs, but the bigger part of him just couldn't sit in supsended animation. So he reported for duty. Training duty, that is.

_I can't believe I'm here,_ eighteen year old Sam thought to herself. She and a bunch of other teens, were being taken to Langley, Virginia. She couldn't believe that she was going to be trained as a CIA agent.

She looked around the huge motorcaid she was currently riding in. All the people there looked to be around her age. A couple of the boys made eyes at her. But she was used to that.

Part of her just couldn't believe she was here. After all, people who grow up comitting crimes don't usually expect to be trained any law enforcement agent, least of all the CIA.

She felt like she was in a dream. She thought she would wake up as she arrived at orientation. She felt like she was in a dream when she arrived at her classroom and took a seat.

But it all became very real when her instructor came in. She had expected to see, a military man, a retired James Bond or something.

But this guy, he couldn't have been more than a few years older than her. He was like a young Bond. He was wearing Converse, a white shirt and jeans.

"Good morning, class. I'm your instructor, Charles Carmichael. You can call me Chuck. Welcome to the Farm. You've been chosen because you are the best. And here, you'll get even better. All right, let's get the boring stuff out of the way. Role Call: Jeremiah David Reese?"

"Here," a guy with frizzy red hair and Clark Kent glasses said with a smile. Sam smiled. Classic nerd.

"Abigail Lynn Gregg?"

"Here," a tall, slender brunette with piercing gray eyes said as she winked at "Chuck". Sam rolled her eyes. Classic femme fatale.

"Samantha Lisa…"

"Here," Sam said quickly. "Call me Sam." Chuck looked up at her and smiled.

"Welcome Sam."

In later years, Chuck would often say that he finally understood what Robert Burns was talking about when he wrote "to see her is to love her"


	2. Chapter 2

The Farm

**Forgot to introduce the story last chapter. I thought it would be cool to do a whole role reversal of our beloved Charah. Rated M for strong sexual content, but that's not coming unti later chapters. But once it's here, there's no stopping it.**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Chuck, but if I did, there would_** so**_ be a movie coming out.

Two

Chuck reluctantly pulled his eyes away from the beautiful, blond, recruit and almost imperceptibly cleared his throat. "Diana Taylor Johns?"

"Here," a girl with short blond hair and round glasses, said raising her hand.

Chuck nodded and completed the role call. 15 girls, 15 boys. 30 potential future operatives. Some he knew, children born into the spy game, like him, following in their parents' footsteps. Chuck put his messenger bag on his desk.

The classrooms at The Farm, were set up like a basic high school class. Desks, windows, and a teacher at the front of the room. It was designed to make the students feel comfortable on their first day.

Of course, Chuck knew that the comfort would end very, very quickly.

He faced the class, and sighed. "All right. Whatever you think you know about being a spy, forget it. The first rule about being an agent of the CIA is to understand that you're are an officer of the U.S. government. And your foremost objective is to protect the United States of America from any and all threats, foreign or homegrown."

He was quoting his supervisor in operative training, Agent Langston Graham.

"Some people in this world want to be heroes. But others have to be asked. Which are you? Be aware that not all of you will graduate. In fact, if you're picturing yourself as Bond. James Bond firing at Goldfinger on a jet ski, with an Italian supermodel, you might as well leave now."

He paused, waiting for someone to get up and leave the class.

"No? Good," he said with a smile.

"Let's cover the ground rules, shall we? Rule number one: don't be late. Time is security, the nation's security. We start every morning at 7, we end when I say. It's my job to train you, to train you to protect this country. It's my job to ensure that the officers entrusted with that responsibility are completely and totally competent, so I will keep you here until I'm satisfied you've learned what it is I'm trying to tell you."

He watched a couple of them shift in their seats, probably not morning people, he figured.

"Rule number two: you are allowed to leave the compound when your classes have finished for the day, but under no circumstances are you allowed to discuss what goes on at the Farm anywhere outside the compound. This is Langley. The person behind you in the Starbucks' line could be a enemy spy. So what happens at the Farm, stays at the Farm. Understood?"

The class nodded, Chuck was happy that they were at least paying attention. "Rule number three: Sundays are personal days. That's means you're free. You can go wherever, do whatever. As long as you don't discuss what goes on in your training, and you don't do anything stupid. Because even when you're off, you are still an agent of the government in training, and you'll conduct yourselves as such."

A student raised her hand, an African-American girl named Lindsey. "Yes, Lindsey?"

"So what qualifies as 'stupid'?"

Chuck bit back a laugh. "Ok, on your day off, those of you who are old enough can go out and have a drink or two, but getting drunk and crazy while you're here, that's stupid. If any of you winds up with a drunken rant on YouTube, you will be dismissed."

"Rule number four: I can dismiss you at anytime I like. If I discern you cannot handle this job, I have the authorization to ask you to leave, and you are obligated to comply. And it is your strict duty as an American citizen never to reveal what you've seen and/or done."

He paused for a moment, and looked the class over. He knew he had their attention, it was in the way they leaned forward, the way their eyes sparked with interest. They wanted this. That was a good thing. This job was not for the faint of the heart.

"The last rule, arguably the most important and least popular and the most broken, is very simple: we have a no fratenization policy. That means if any of you are thinking about asking out the person next to you, get that thought out of your head right now. Once you've graduated, if you graduate, you can date whoever you please. But while you're here, you need to concentrate on your training. No dating fellow trainees."

He noticed a few of the guys frowning and shrugging their shoulders and he grinned. "But," he said in a conspiratoral whisper. "What I don't know can't hurt you."

They laughed at that. He smiled, he knew gaining their trust was important. He looked at his watch. "That's all for now. Go to your dorms, rest, relax, do your favorite things. Because tomorrow, you shut the door on your old lives."

The class smiled at him, gathered their things and walked out. Chuck's eyes seemed to be disconnected from the rest of him, because they followed Sam out of the room.

_The first day is always the hardest,_ Chuck told himself when he walked into his penthouse apartment that he shared with Bryce. He hadn't used it much recently. Mainly because he was never in Langley long enough. He was stil having a hard time believing that he was stuck there.

He couldn't believed his parents and his closest friends had conspired against him. Being concerned was one thing. But going behind his back and telling his superior officer that he needed to stay at Langley was another.

He knew they were worried, and rightfully so. But he was fine.

At least, that was what he he kept telling himself. He laughed, thinking about the last time his parents had any say in his missions.

It was right after he'd graduated from the Farm, they gave him his first assignment. But he was soon placed under the command of General Diane Beckman.

But after Cairo, his parents had gone into full-blown overprotective mode, a side he hadn't seen in a while.

He knew that his parents were looking out for him, but he resented being treated like a child.

Still, the sooner he got these recruits trained, the sooner he could get back to real spy work. He pulled out his laptop, turned on the webcam and started his mission log.

"Day 1: This is Agent Charles Carmichael. Today I met the recruits. My mission is to train them, train to them to protect the United States. Train them to be spies. Some are familiar faces, born into this life, like me. Others are new, and don't have a clue as to what's about to happen them. Some of them know that they're about to give their lives to the American government. I wonder if they're prepared, if they really have what it takes. I hope so. The better are, the faster they progress, and the quicker I get the hell out of here. Chuck out."

He grabbed his messenger bag and pulled out the flash drive that held the files of the recruits:

**Greta Arkin**, 19: daughter of Lena and Michael Arkin, NCS. Born August 11th. Hometown: Washington, D.C. Special skills: Black belts in karate, tae kwon do, jujitsu. Speaks fluent Greek, Italian, Polish, and German. Personality: Driven, focused, quick thinker, lacks finesse. _Sounds like Casey,_ Chuck thought._ Does she even need operative training?_

**Daniel Shaw**: 20, son of Jane and Ryan Shaw, civilian. Born June 4th. Hometown: Richmond, Virgina. Special skills: High IQ, trained in carpentry. Personality: Overachiever, good listener, emotionally stoic. _Stiff as a board. Emotionally speaking, Swiss cheese, got it._

**Evelyn Pratt**: 20, daughter of Nora and Calvin Pratt, civilian. Born February 6th. Hometown: Richmond, Virgina. Special skills: Sewing, photography, trained in kickboxing. Personality: Endearing, strong sense of loyalty, single-minded when reaching goals. _Ok, loyal, but single-minded. Interesting combo._

And then there her file was, Sam. He couldn't stop himself from reading it aloud. "Age 18, daughter of convicted con man 'Jack Burton', mother unknown. Good with knives, and trained in theft. Closed off from people. Has lived in twenty different cities, under many aliases, graduated high school in San Diego, recruited by Langston Graham."

He smiled, he knew Langston had a knack for choosing the best, if he did say so himself.

After all it was Langston who'd chosen Chuck for early operative training, he'd started when he was fourteen. Ellie had long decided she wanted nothing to do with the spy life.

Chuck knew to expect great things from Sam. And somehow, his thoughts always kept going back to her.

Everything in his training should've been telling him to squelch those thoughts, and yet it wasn't.

He heard the front door opening, he shrugged, figuring it was Bryce.

And it was. Bryce sashayed in, with the catalyst herself, DEA operative Carina Miller engulfed in his arms.

Chuck couldn't help but roll his eyes. No one caused more tension between his friends than Carina. Beautiful, sure. Excellent spy, doubtless. But, dear God, that woman was trouble.

Carina was…a wild card. And that was putting it nicely.

She and Bryce had been on-again/off-again since they were both at the Farm. From the looks of it, they were on again.

And whenever they broke up, Carina quickly found someone to make Bryce seethe with jealously.

Chuck couldn't help but sigh as the two made out, completely unaware of his presence. So he cleared his throat loudly.

"Chuck," Bryce said, pulling away from Carina. "Thought you'd still be with the recruits."

"Yeah, well, I thought you were still in Jakarta."

"Still pissed, I see," Bryce said with a smile.

"Oh, get used to that," Chuck said, closing his laptop.

"Oh, poor Chuckles," Carina said smoothly. "Still down about Cairo? Look, I know it's hard losing a partner. But getting dead is an occupational hazard."

"Thanks, Carina. I feel so much better now."

"Training the recruits can be fun, Chuck," Bryce told him. "And I'm sure you'll be great at it."

Carina scoffed. "Recruit training? God, I'd rather practice abstinence for a year and a half. Like you, Chuck. It's been, what, eleven months since you and Jill headed south. God, you must be so _**tense. **_I'd love to help, if Bryce doesn't mind sharing, that is."

Chuck rolled his eyes in disgust, bewildered by his friend's taste in women. "Fuck you, Carina."

"Is that a promise?"

"Ok, let me be clearer: Fuck off. No better yet, I'll leave. Not gonna get any work done around here."

He grabbed his laptop and headed out the door, thinking he probably wouldn't be back tonight.

The sun was still setting as he walked through the streets of downtown Langley. He thought of his students, hoping they'd taken his advice to do their favorite things.

They would always need to remember who they were, if they were gonna survive at this job.

He thought about heading over to Morgan's place, playing a little Guitar Hero, unwinding before the real work began.

He stepped into a coffee shop, wanting to grab a latte, before he headed over to Morgan's.

And there she was, sitting in a corner table, by the window, chewing on a swizzle stick.

The spy in him told him not to engage, to retreat, to get out of the coffeehouse as quickly as possible.

But Chuck would soon lose count of how many times he ignored his instincts.

Sam sat in the coffeehouse, trying to think of one of her favorite things to do. Truth is, she didn't have many. When you live your whole life on the run, you don't get a chance to have many favorites.

But wherever she was, she frequented a local café. So with a small smile, she realized she was doing one of her favorite things, even if it was mundane.

She looked up for a second and her blue eyes found a familiar pair of brown ones. "Chuck?" she said.

"Sam, hi," he said with a smile, but not approaching her.

"You wanna sit?" she asked.

He hesitated. "I probably shouldn't."

"I won't tell if you don't," she said with a smile.

He laughed at that, and sat down. "So this is one of your favorite things, sitting in a café?"

"Yeah, I guess it is."

"And what are the rest of your classmates doing?"

"Off the record?"

"Of course."

"I think they're all going to a club called Lace."

"Ah, I know it well. And you didn't wanna go?"

"I'm used to sticking to myself."

"Really? Why's that?"

"Don't you a have a file on me? Shouldn't you know?"

"I do, but the file's just facts and figures. And this is one-on-one time with the instructor. You shouldn't really pass this up."

Sam laughed, her first genuine one in a while. "I thought we're not allowed to discuss…school stuff outside of school."

"We're not allow to discuss your training, which hasn't even started yet."

"Ok, I'm game. I'm mean, you know practically about me anyway, right?"

"I wouldn't say that, but I've been briefed."

"Ok, I stick to myself because when I walk in a room, I automatically count all the exits. There's four in this café alone, not counting the skylight above us. I also can tell you that the cashier witholds about fifty cent in change per customer. I can also tell you that the guy at the counter eating the bear claw is an off duty cop. And if I didn't know exactly who you were, I'd think you were one too."

"Why is that?"

"The gun in your ankle holster," she said with a smile. "It pulls on your jeans. I stick to myself because I've been trained to be ready to run at any given moment."

"Well, that's one thing I don't have to teach you."

"Hmm?"

"Doing…what I do is kind of like that. Like I can tell you that the waitress behind us knows how to handle herself, possible knife training, can't be sure, but definitely one to look out for. But you already knew that."

"I did."

"See, being what I am, I have to be prepared to run to. So that's a good skill, an invaluable one at times. And being able to read people is priceless. This is is the voice of experience here."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Anything but my name."

Sam couldn't help but smile. Chuck was pretty funny. "How'd you get into this line of work? Were you recruited, like me? Or is that information like, highly classified?"

Chuck laughed. "I wasn't recruited. I was, sort of born into this. My business, well it's my family's business."

"So your parents, they were in the same line of work?"

"Parents, grandparents, great-grandparents, and all the ones before that."

"That must be a lot to live up to."

Chuck shrugged. "Well, not as hard as like being a master con artist, but yeah, it's gets a little overwhelming."

"Do you think I'll be good at this?" she asked. She wanted to know if she saw as having potential. If he thought she could do this. Because she wasn't actually sure. She'd handled so much in her life, but this was so much more."

"That depends," he told her. "When you walk into a room, do you see how to get trapped or how to get out alive?"

"Both."

"You'll be great."

They parted ways not soon after that, Chuck insisting that Sam get a good night sleep.

When she got back to her room at the dorms, she couldn't shake the feeling that she'd just gone on a date.

**So this is really an in-between chapter. The real action starts in the next one. Please read a review.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Here's the new chapter:**

**I don't own Chuck, but if I did, the ending would've been much, much happier.**

Three

_**He can still feel the electricity crackling through his veins, can still feel the harsh sting of the freezing water on his skin. He is bloodied, battered, and bruised, but not yet broken.**_

_**He is trained to survive this. This is nothing, he tells himself. Not nearly as bad as Somalia. Not nearly as bad as Budapest. Not nearly as bad as Casablanca. **_

_**Thinking of Casablanca reminds him of Jill. God, if he could survive the hellish heartbreak she'd put him through, he could survive anything.**_

_**He looks around, these sons-of-bitches are getting ansy. He'd sent out the distress signal over two hours ago.**_

_**He doesn't know if the calvary would make it in time. God, Ellie's anniversary was in two months. She'd be so mad at him if he died.**_

_**He looks over at his team, they're keeping their composure, but he can see the fear simmering in their eyes. They're all wondering if they'll make it out alive.**_

_**Their restraints are electrified, making it impossible to free themselves. **_

_**But then footsteps, shouts in Egyptian and Farsi. The masked guards walk in, slowly, purposefully. Each one caring a 50-caliber sniper rifle.**_

_**He prepares himself to fight as their captors surround them. **_

_**He hears Cross whisper "semper fidelis" as they make him face the stone wall. He turns to wink at his team, right before the merciless hail of bullets hit his body.**_

"_**NO!" **_

Chuck sat straight up in bed, panting, sweating, fearing he was back in that hellhole, watching his team get murdered.

Chuck sighed as he became aware of his surroundings. His phone was ringing. It was the General. "Yes, General?"

"Agent Carmichael, are you ready? Have you prepared your training team?"

"Yes ma'am. Oh, and thank you for letting me pick anyone I want."

"Of course. After you've briefed the recruits at Peary, I'll need to speak with you. A matter of urgency."

"Of course, General."

"Dismissed."

Chuck hung up the phone, wondering what the General possibly could have to say to him. But he didn't have time to think about that know. It was time for The Ambush.

It was time to make the recruits understand what exactly they were doing. It was time for them to be moved to Camp Peary.

And the General had acquiesecd to let him pick his fellow trainers.

He'd known instantly who he wanted. And they weren't exactly thrilled about it. But hey if he had to be stuck stateside, so did Bryce, Morgan and Casey.

"What the hell's wrong with you, Bartowski?" Casey asked, when Chuck picked him up in a huge armored truck.

"Well, I just figured we could all spend some quality time, training the fresh blood."

Bryce and Morgan were already in the car, and couldn't help but roll their eyes.

Casey did little but grunt in reply. He wasn't much of a talker, especially at 1:20 in the morning

Bryce just shook his head. "Well, let's get this over with as quickly as possible, then."

"What, I thought I needed more time," Chuck deadpanned.

"Okay, these kids are in for the ride of their lives," Morgan said changing the subject. "There gonna be the best crop the Farm ever produced."

"Aside from us, of course," Chuck said with a smile.

Bryce nodded in agreement. "Come on, let's go. The Ambush was my least favorite part of training. Let's get it over with."

Casey grabbed his Sig 229, and his Glock 45 from his duffel. "Let's do this."

Sam awoke to the sound of a scream. Her roommate, Evelyn Pratt, being the source of that scream.

Before she could react, she felt a gloved hand cover her mouth, and even though her eyes were now open, she couldn't see a thing. She realized that a black mask was over her face.

She didn't know what the hell was going on, but she reacted the only way she knew how. She grabbed her pocketknife from her bedside table and jabbed it directly into the aforementioned gloved hand.

"Ah. Shit!" came a voice, definitely male.

"Hey, quit fooling around," came another voice, stern and final. "Grab her and go."

Sam felt her being pulled out of bed, brought to her feet, and immediately her wrists were cuffed, the knife slipping from her grip.

Next thing she knew she was being thrown over someone's shoulder and they were moving.

The person's grip on her legs was strong, rendering her pretty much immobile.

But then a light clicked on in her head. This had to be some kind of setup. There's no way she was actually being kidnapped. This was some sort of test.

The notion relaxed her a little bit, but not much. She wasn't sure how to react, and she was sure she was being graded on her reactions.

She could hear Evelyn whimpering, and suddenly she had the notion that she was outside. She could feel the wind through her mask.

She heard what sounded like a door opening and felt herself hit a cold metal floor.

Doors shut, an engine started, and suddenly she was moving.

_Ok, I must be in the back of a truck. The back of a truck. I'm being moved? Transported? Are they gonna leave us out in the fucking woods? God, what have I gotten myself into?_

Sam thought about her mother. Her mother was the only person she'd told about being recruited by the CIA.

She hadn't seen her mother in almost two years, and she was aware that the CIA wasn't exactly sure who her mother was.

For some reason, she was happy about that. It felt good to have a secret from people who collected secrets.

Her wrists ached from the cuffs, but her mind ached worse with curiosity. What was going on? She couldn't see anything through the mask. So she tried to focus on the sounds around her.

She could make out breathing, fast and shallow. She wasn't sure how many people were in the car, but she could hear shifting and movement.

She could hear horns blaring, and in the distance, music playing.

And then she heard hissing. A loud, clear hiss like the sound of a deflating balloon.

And suddenly, she was very, very sleepy. She told herself to fight it, but her eyes were so heavy. She felt herself fall into a deep, hard sleep, almost as if she'd been knocked out.

Sam came to slowly, the mask being pulled off her head, her eyes gradually adjusting and taking in her new surroundings. The first thing she noticed was Chuck, and several other guys standing a few feet away from her.

She was in a chair, her wrists no longer cuffed and she took note that her whole entire class seemed to be there as well.

Chuck cleared his throat. "I hope you all had fun on your last day as civilians. Forgive the rude awakening. But it had to be done. Welcome to Armed Forces Experimental Training Activity. Welcome to Camp Peary. Welcome to The Farm."

Excited and anticipating smiles crossed the recruits' faces as they listened to their instructor's words. "This is your new home," he continued. "You're right outside of Williamsburg, Virginia. That's as specific as I'm getting. I hope you remember the ground rules, they apply just as much here."

He motioned to the men that were standing beside him, all dark haired with blue eyes. One stood as the same impressive height as Chuck, one was at least half a foot shorter, and one stood somewhere in the middle.

"Allow me to introduce the rest of your instructors. This is Colonel John Casey, NSA. He will be handling your special weapons and combat training. Trust me, you're in good hands. The colonel has saved my life countless times."

John Casey gave a small smile and grunted in agreement as he eyed the recruits, clearly sizing them up. Sam could tell that he was a take no prisoners type.

"This is Agent Bryce Larkin, CIA. Black Op specialist. He'll be handling your Endurance and Resistance Training. In other words, he'll be teaching you to withstand torture, physical and psychological and the like."

Sam noticed he had a bandaged hand. "Oh, and Sam, good aim," Chuck commented, pointing to Bryce's hand. "Bryce didn't know what hit him."

Sam winced. "I'm sorry about that, Agent Larkin."

"No, don't be," Bryce told her with a smile. "That was a perfect reaction. Don't lose that instinct. No one can teach you that."

Bryce stepped back to let Chuck introduce the fourth guy, the shortest of the group.

"This is Agent Morgan Grimes, CIA. Stealth Expert. He'll be handling your Stealth and Contingency training. In other words, he'll teach you to be invisible. There are times when we have to come in hot, guns blazing. But more often than not, we have to see, but not be seen. Be unsuspecting. You're gonna have to convince lethal people that you're not a threat. That you know nothing. Convince them that you're the last person they should have their eyes on. Morgan is a master of invisibility."

Morgan shrugged in agreement. "It's true. No one ever suspects me of being CIA. I'm sneaky, and lethal. My code name is Cobra."

The class laughed as three sets of eyes rolled at their colleague.

"Now you're probably wondering what the hell I'll be doing," Chuck continued. "Well, it's simple. Espionage is a game of marks, usually human marks. You see the real danger doesn't lie in the guns or the bombs or the nukes. The real danger lies in the people behind them. At any moment, you have to manipulate the people around you to further your objective. Somebody has a gun to your head, and you've been disarmed. You've got to convince them that whatever you know they certainly won't find if they pull the trigger. I'll be handling Manipulation and Subversion and Inducement and Infiltration of Enemy Personnel. I'll teach you how to let people get close to you, but stay unattached. I'll teach you how to get people to trust you, without ever telling them one true thing. This is the Farm, people. Time to get serious."

Evelyn Pratt raised her hand. "What exactly does Inducement and Infiltration mean?"

"Seduction class," Morgan piped up with a big grin.

"But we've got some time before we get there," Chuck said, shaking his head at his best friend.

"For now," Casey said, ignoring Morgan. "Head to your dorms, try to get some rest. We start at dawn, which is soon."

The still somewhat unnerved recruits slowly filed out of the room. Right as Sam was heading out the door, Chuck called her name.

She turned around to see him holding out her knife to her. "I got the blood off. Seems like you're pretty good with that thing. Keep it close. Never know when you might need it."

She smiled at him, a gesture which he quickly returned. "Thanks, Chuck."

"You're welcome."

They held each other's gazes longer than totally necessary, which caused Casey to raise an eyebrow at Morgan and Bryce.

Sam walked out of the room, Chuck involuntarily watching her go.

"What was that?" Bryce asked casually.

"What was what?" Chuck said, turning to face his friends.

Bryce exchanged a glance with Casey and decided to drop the issue…for the time being. "Whatever."

Chuck shrugged it off. "Look, I gotta go conference with Beckman. Get some sleep."

Chuck walked out of the room. Morgan shook his head. "Did you see what I saw?"

Two "Yup"s sounded through the room.

"And?"

Casey sighed. "And I hope we're wrong."

"We're never wrong," Bryce pointed out.

Morgan sighed. "I know."

Meanwhile, Chuck walked into the office he'd been assigned conferenced in the General.

To his surprise Langston Graham was also in the room with General Beckman.

So was his father.

_What now,_ he thought as he braced himself for whatever was coming his way.

"Agent Bartowski," Graham began. "You might want to have a seat."

He nodded, knowing that that was more an order than a suggestion.

So sit he did, and turned to face the screen. "Ok, do I dare ask what's going on?"

The three senior agents exchanged a glance, none apparently wanting to go first.

Beckman sighed. "Bartowski, now that you're at Peary, it's time we level with you. We didn't simply assign you to recruit training because we thought you needed more time stateside."

Chuck's eyebrows shot straight up, but he didn't dare interrupt.

Beckman cleared her throat. "As you know Farukah Vosloo remains at large. His capture is top priority with the Director, not only for the murder of DEA Agent Cross, NCS Agent Waters and NSA Agent Len, but we believe that he is the head of a Volto cell in Egypt."

"Volto? As in _**The Volto**_?" Chuck couldn't believe his ears, nor he did he want to. Volto, only the most ruthless and untouchable criminal organization out there.

"The very one," Graham said with a sigh. He himself had a long and storied history with the nefarious organization. "And they're upping the ante. They recently raided a CIA substation in Hartford. We don't know how close they're getting, but we do know what they're after, which brings us to your father."

Stephen eyed his son with hesitance, like he clearly didn't want to say whatever it was he was about to. But the General spoke first.

"Bartowski, do you remember the Intersect project?"

Chuck nodded. "Yeah. Well, I mean I've only heard it whispered about at my kitchen table, which is worrisome. But what does that have to do with Volto?"

Stephen sighed. "Son, the Intersect Project is a highly classified CyberOp that I'm in charge of. It started as a way of keeping intel up-to-date and mobile. But it grew into a way to eliminate the need for training recruits. It's a way to put information in the brain, without having to learn it."

"Information?" Chuck prodded. He felt as if he was being let into an inner circle, he knew how top secret his father's work was.

"Intel, government secrets, agents' files, and limitless skill sets," Stephen explained.

"Limitless skills? Dad, you mind elaborating on that one?"

"The Intersect has the ability to turn someone into the perfect superspy. It'll download every skill a spy could ever possibly need. Karate, weapons training, flamenco guitar, every language known to man, including Klingon. It's my greatest creation. Aside from you and your sister, of course."

Chuck wanted to smile, but he had a feeling that something extremely serious was going on.

"Ok, I get it, Dad. This Intersect is very important, but what does any of that have to do with me training the recruits?"

"I'm getting to that," Graham said. "We received intel that Volto is going to try to infiltrate the Farm. In fact our intel leads us to believe that they might have already done so. Volto wants to build their own Intersect, they also want to build their own army of superspies. Which brings us to what they took at the Hartford substation. They stole the formula for a new chemical weapon, Xarthanol."

"What exactly does Xarthanol do?" Chuck asked, not certain he actually wanted to know.

Graham sighed. "It's a special memory loss agent. It allows selective, targeted amnesia. The more you're exposed to, the more memory you lose."

"What's the dose-to-memory-loss ratio?"

"One CC to an hour," an all too familiar voice said.

Chuck looked up from the screen to see CIA Special Agent Jill Roberts: Age 22. Selected for early operative training at age fifteen, graduated from Stanford University, expertise: BioOps.

Chuck could recite Jill's file from memory, even though he didn't need to. He already knew everything there was to know about her.

She'd only been his on-again/off again girlfriend for, oh, seven years.

And there she was, in his office, when she should've been off on some super secret mission in Tibet or Iran or just anywhere far, far away.

He hadn't seen her since before Cairo. Right before he'd shipped out to Cairo, they'd broken things off again in Casablanca. That time, Jill had stated clearly, would be the last time.

"Agent Bartowski," the General's firm voice shook him from his thoughts.

"Um, yes, General, what was that?" Chuck fumbled, realizing he'd been staring at Jill for the last two minutes.

"As I was saying, we believe Volto's plan is to take over the Farm, erase the recruits' memories using Xarthanol and then upload them with their own version of the Intersect."

"Making their own army of superspies," Graham finished. "Obviously, we cannot allow this to happen. So Orion here is being moved to a safe house as soon as we're done here."

"Wait, Dad, you're going underground?" Chuck ripped his stunned eyes away from Jill.

"I've got to. Volto's after me too. Can't tell you where I'm going."

Chuck nodded. "I know. Just be safe, okay? Does Mom know?"

"She knows. But Ellie doesn't. I didn't want to worry her. Your mom's gonna be in Tangiers for a while. Chuck, you understand how sensitive this mission is?"

Chuck nodded. "I do. But just one question, is there any evidence that there's a Volto operative in my recruit class?"

Graham and Beckman both shrugged. "Impossible to say at this point, Charles," his father replied. "But be on your guard. Jill's going to join your team, teach the newbies about chemical weapons."

"Why?" Chuck was beyond shocked, which was rare.

Graham smiled. "Because if Volto succeeds, Jill has developed a counteragent for Xarthanol. But for obvious reasons, she's been ordered not to disclose it."

"This isn't going to be a problem, is it?" Beckman asked looking from Chuck to Jill.

"Of course not, General," they both responded instantly.

"Good. Guards up, Agents Bartowski, Roberts. You'll be briefed as soon we have new information. Dismissed."

The screen went blank, leaving Chuck and Jill to ponder their new assignment.

Chuck held out his hand. "Welcome to the Farm, Agent Roberts."

Jill took his hand and held it for a few quiet moments. "It's been a while since I've been here, Agent Bartowski."

Chuck pulled his hand away after a long moment. "Yeah, well, I have a feeling this time is going to be a lot different. I've gotta talk to Bryce and Morgan and Casey. Let them know what's going. Um, and then we'll discuss it over breakfast at 0900 tomorrow."

"Sounds great. You sound like a real Team Leader." Jill gave him a truly sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry about what happened in Cairo. I wanted to call, but…"

Chuck shrugged. "It's okay. I'm fine. It's fine. You know, they died American heroes. That's every spy's dream, right?"

Jill folded her arms and shrugged. "Well, it definitely was Blaine's." She reached out to touch his forearm. "You're sure you okay?"

Chuck nodded. "I'm fine, Jill. I just need to think on this." Chuck brushed past her, leaving her to watch him go.

There was only one place to go when a world class spy needed to think: the shooting range. The Farm, of course, had its own.

And that's where Jill found Chuck an hour later, firing his Smith&Wesson 22, clearly lost in thought.

_**Volto…Blaine…Cal…Len. I have to take Volto down, for them. And now they're coming after my dad. They can't get away with this. They won't. I won't let them. I can't.**_

_**And the recruits. Can I trust them? Do I trust them? **_ He took off his ear protectors and sighed.

"Your aim's a little off," Jill said, shaking Chuck from his reverie.

Chuck looked closely at the target and sighed. Jill was right. His shots were veering a little to the left. Still lethal, but not the perfection he demanded of himself.

"I know," he said with a sigh. "It has been since Cairo."

Jill stepped closer to him as he reloaded his gun.

"You have to know it wasn't your fault. They would've killed you too, if they'd gotten the chance." She paused for a moment and shook her head. "But I understand if that doesn't make you feel better."

Chuck shrugged. "Everyone tells me I'm the lucky one. I survived. I lived to fight another day, to avenge them. And that's what I'm going to do. I'm going to avenge them."

Jill gently placed a hand to his face. "I'll help you."

Their brown eyes met, foreheads nearly touching. Jill felt herself standing on her toes, their lips inching closer and closer…until Chuck pulled away abruptly.

He sighed softly. "Jill, what the hell are we doing? We can't keep doing this. We've been going back and forth like this since we were kids."

She stared up at him. "I know. I don't know why though."

He shrugged. "I do. We live such dangerous lives. Everything about what we do is unsafe and unstable. And you and me, it's familiar. It's something to fall back on. And I mean, it was great. It's time we both move on."

"It's not as easy as I thought it would be, letting you go," she told with a sad smile.

"I know. Jill, I'm gonna cherish a lot of the special memories we have, but that's what it is, a memory. And you made me see that in Casablanca. And we have a job to do. And if we're dealing with Volto here…"

"Then we have to be at the top of our game, no distractions," she pulled back from him, letting him know she understood.

He kissed her cheek gently. "Meet me and the guys for breakfast tomorrow. We've got a lot to talk about."

"I'll be there, Agent Carmichael."

"Dismissed, Agent Roberts."

Jill gave his arm a squeeze, and left him in the shooting range. Chuck was glad they'd cleared the air. Especially since she was going to be at the Farm, helping with the recruits.

Recruit training was turning out way more interesting that he'd thought. But he didn't need distractions. Not when he was dealing with Volto. It wasn't his first run in with the organization.

But he'd be damned if it wasn't his last.

After he'd fired a few more rounds, he headed back to his room where, of course, Morgan was playing _Call of Duty._

"Morgan, what are you doing in my room? It's like 4 in the morning."

"I'm always in your room, Chuck," Morgan said with a tone that screamed "duh".

Chuck couldn't argue with that. "So…Jill's here," he said in a very nonchalant tone. But his tone never fooled Morgan.

"What? Jill's here? As in _**JILL**_, Jill?"

"Is there another Jill? She's gonna be helping us with the recruits."

"Why? Did you request her? I thought you guys were dunzo."

"We are. We are. It's just…I almost kissed her."

"What? Are you two gonna get back together?"

"No, no. I made it clear that that's not going to happen."

"Well, hey, the old flame can burn."

"Not right now, it can't. Jill's here for a reason. But I don't feel like getting into it right now. I'm gonna go for a run. Fill you in at breakfast."

Morgan shrugged, making no attempt to vacate the premises. Chuck shook his head at his best friend.

He had to be up in two hours, so he saw no point in even attempting to sleep.

And sometimes a run was just what he needed. This was one of those times.

He'd been running for about forty-five minutes, when he spotted a figure sitting on a rock about eleven feet in front of him.

He crept slowly towards the figure, ready to throttle it, if necessary.

But the sun was beginning to rise and he could just make out the person.

"Sam?"

The sound of her name startled her from her thoughts and she nearly fell off the rock. "Ah!"

He rushed to stop her from slipping, and she stumbled awkwardly right into his arms.

Chuck smiled down at her as he helped her regain her footing.. "Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I just wasn't expecting to see anyone out here. What are you doing out here, anyway?"

She sighed. "Well, after my 'rude awakening', I couldn't sleep. So I figured I'd take a look around."

Chuck smiled, recalling he'd done the exactly same thing his first day at the Farm.

"I mean, we have to be up in a few hours anyway," she said as she dusted off her gym shoes. "This felt like a few nice place to have a few final moments of peace, before you know, I shut the door on my old life."

She sat back down on the rock. "Graham said I was born to do this."

For some reason he couldn't put his finger on, he sat down beside her. "Yeah, he said the same thing about me."

Sam turned to face him, surprise in her eyes.

Chuck nodded. "Yeah. And Graham's not wrong about people. So, be warned: I'll expect greatness from you."

Sam sighed. "I hope I don't let you down. But since I've got you here, why don't you tell me what the secret is? To being good at this?"

Chuck thought for a moment. "What's your cover?"

"Huh?"

"What's your cover? What do your friends and family think you're doing right now?"

"Well, my dad doesn't know where I am. I told my mom the truth. And you have my file, you should know I don't have any friends."

"So, your mother is your connection to your life?"

Sam shrugged. "I guess so."

"Well, then no matter what you do, where you go, or whoever this job makes you be, don't forget who you really are. And hold on to the person or people that connect you to who you are."

Sam smiled up at him. "I've had like six different identities. Who I am is a very complex thing."

"Tell me about it. I've been doing this job for so long, seen so many things. But I never picture myself doing anything else. I protect something bigger than myself. I guess the secret to this job is not losing yourself. Because even when you're spy, it's wrong to be half-alive."

Sam smiled at him. "I think I can do that. But it must be easy for you. Everyone in your life is in this world."

"That doesn't always make it easy," Chuck said, thinking that his dad was probably already being moved in an armored truck with blacked-out windows to only God-knows-where. "I cherish every second with my family. I don't know if I'll ever see them again when I leave."

"I understand that feeling. My dad, I would always get so scared that his next score would be his last. He always used to say that pigs get fat, but hogs get slaughtered. I guess somewhere along the line, he became a hog."

Chuck wondered what the story was with Sam's dad. He didn't know why he found her so interesting, and so easy to talk to.

It dawned on him suddenly: he trusted her. In his occupation, he trusted no one except his team. But he had a knack for reading people, and something in him told him that trusting her was okay.

"Well, I'm sure wherever he is, he'd be proud of you if he could see you now."

Sam shrugged. "I don't know. He'd probably be disappointed that I didn't turn more out like him. Restless and unstable."

"Well, I hate to break it to you, this isn't exactly the most stable of occupations," he said with a grin.

"Well, at least it's legal."

The sun was just beginning to rise. They watched it begin to creep over the rise for a few silent moments.

"Well, we probably should go. You shouldn't be late for your first class. Neither should I."

Chuck hopped down from the rock and held out a hand to help her down. "Just remember. This is the CIA. Nothing is as it seems."

Chuck had just enough time to take a shower and change clothes. And then he met his team for breakfast in Casey's suite.

They were all there, were all busy greeting Jill with easy smiles and for a moment Chuck almost thought that it could've been a year earlier.

But it wasn't. That year had come and gone. He cleared his throat authoritatively.

"Good, you're all here. We have a few things to discuss before classes."

Bryce eyed his old friend curiously. He was curious as to why Jill was there. Curious as why Chuck had even called this meeting. _What else could he tell us about training the newbies?_

Adding to his impatience was the fact that Carina was waiting for him with chocolate sauce and whipped cream.

He took a seat at the head of the table and he put on his business face. "Last night, Director Graham and General Beckman briefed me and Agent Roberts on a highly sensitive matter."

Everyone's shoulders straightened as they all leaned in closer to Chuck.

"They have intel that Volto is planning on infiltrating the Farm."

Casey growled, Bryce sucked in a breath and Morgan winced at the sound of the group's name.

"Volto?" Morgan asked. "As in _**The Volto**_?"

"The very one," Chuck said with a sigh. "Apparently, Vosloo is the head of a Volto cell in the Middle East."

Everyone stayed silent, realizing this was personal for Chuck. He put his head down for a moment before continuing. "Volto raided a CIA substation in Hartford. Stole an experimental drug. Which brings us to Jill."

Jill nodded slightly at Chuck. "The drug was a design of mine. It's called Xarthanol. It's a way of creating targeted, selective amnesia. Intel reveals that Volto's plan is to take over and brainwash the new recruits. Create their own army of superspies. From the Farm, one can only suppose, they hope to take over the CIA."

"A coup d'Etat," Casey grunted, mildly impressed.

"Obviously, we can't let that happen," Chuck said folding his arms. "Intel is uncertain whether or not there are already Volto operatives in the recruits, but we have to be on our guard."

"How would Volto even begin to infiltrate the Farm?" Morgan asked filled with incredulity.

"Volto has operatives in every major clandestine agency in the country," Bryce said with disgust. "Any of us could be Volto."

"Are you Volto?" Chuck asked Bryce with a grin.

"No."

"Well, I'm not Volto. That's two down. The biggest problem is, training the recruits is going to be difficult, seeing as we don't know if we can trust them."

"Well, are there any you trust?" Morgan asked. "You've already spent some time with them."

"Greta Arkin. We all know her parents very well. That girl is like a fourth-generation spy. Not her. And then there's um…Sam."

"Sam?" Four voices echoed.

"Yeah, um eighteen-year-old recruit, she was selected by Graham. So, she's clear."

"Because she was selected by Graham, that mean she's clear?" Casey asked with doubt.

"Duh," Morgan said frankly. "Graham recruited me and Chuck and Jill for early operative training. I'm pretty sure he wouldn't recruit a Volto agent. He hates them with a passion, and he can spot them from a mile away."

Casey didn't argue with that. "Ok, so we have to train recruits we can't trust? Go team."

"It's our mission. We have to find the leak and burn them, before they burn us."

Bryce shook his head. "It's pretty ballsy of Volto, infiltrating the farm."

Jill scoffed. "It's also incredibly stupid. They're not gonna get away with this."

Chuck nodded. "No, they're not. But we also cannot let them know we're on to them. So we go in there, and we train them the best we know how. But eyes open. Look for anything suspicious or anything too unsuspicious. Volto operatives know what they're doing."

"Well, it's a good thing they sent us," Morgan said with nod. "Semper fidizzle."

Casey rolled his eyes. "Well, we might as well get this nightmare over with."

But something told Chuck the nightmare had only just begun.

Sam sat anxiously in her class. She didn't know what they were going to be doing; she wasn't quite sure what "manipulation and subversion" meant. It sounded like a whole lot of lying. But that was okay. She was used to lying.

Everyone around her seemed a little nervous, except for Greta. The doe-eyed brunette seemed cool, calm and collected, as if she did this type of thing everyday.

_Maybe she does,_ Sam mused with a shrug. She couldn't wait for Chuck to get there. She had a feeling she was going to like being one of his students.

School had always been a rough thing for her. But she liked being here.

If she was totally honest with herself, she was absolutely stoked. Here she was jailbird's daughter, about to become a government agent in training.

She tried her best to keep the eager smile off her face. She tried to look like Greta, like this was nothing spectacular. But that particular visage didn't come easily.

She just couldn't wait for everything to start.

She didn't have to wait very long. Chuck sauntered in, looking part business, part casual. He wore a blue long sleeved buttoned shirt, jeans and Chuck Taylor shoes.

It seemed those were the signature piece of his wardrobe. She didn't know why, but seeing him put a smile on her face.

"Good morning, class," he said as he put his messenger bag on his desk. "I trust you all slept well. And if you didn't, I hope you loaded up on caffeine. You will need your energy. We have a few more rules to cover before we begin. It's mandatory that you spend at least two hours in the gym everyday, including Sundays, conditioning your bodies. We have a zero tolerance for sedentary lifestyles. Also, when an instructor tells you do something, do it. You follow your orders unquestioningly or you pack your bags. Keep that and the other rules in mind and you have nothing to worry about. We clear?"

Everyone nodded and a few even said yes.

Chuck smiled. "Good. This job has a lot of requirements. But it's nothing you people can't handle. But the thing you have to do most is lie. So that's where we're gonna start. The art of the lie. We're gonna go around the room and each of you is going to tell me three things about yourself, two true, one lie. Any volunteers?"

Daniel Shaw raised his hand. "Shaw," Chuck said. "You have the floor."

He stood up. "I'm from Virginia, I'm allergic to peanuts, and I like cowboy movies."

Chuck nodded. "You're not allergic to peanuts."

Shaw looked at him with surprise. "You shifted your weight when you said that one. Next?"

A tall slender redhead named Laura stood up. "I play piano, I've read _Pride and Prejudice _nine times and I hate Britney Spears music."

Chuck shrugged. "You don't play piano. The pitch of your voice lowered after you said that."

Greta stood up next. "I'm a vegetarian. I like to ice skate and I've never held a gun in my life."

If Chuck hadn't known with certainty that the last thing she said was a bald lie, he would've believed her. "Bravo. Any other takers?"

Sam hesitantly stood up. "I hate surprises, gardenias are my favorite flowers and I won a national poetry contest when I was eleven."

Chuck's eyes widened in wonder. "Again, bravo. Get rid of your tells, people. Everywhere you go, you're going to have a different name and a story to go along with it. Oh and please keep in mind that there's a big difference between a bold lie and an obvious lie. Bold lies are easy to believe, obvious ones are easy to disprove. Keep your story straight no matter what. Don't backtrack. Don't add on after the fact unless it's necessary. When someone asks you a question, don't look up. They'll know you're lying. Don't look down either, they'll know you don't know the truth. Maintain eye contact, don't shift your feet, don't touch your face, don't lower or raise your voice. Be consistent. Everybody got that?"

Chuck didn't wait for a response. "All of you when you're recruited received an alias. Some of you are already using it. That is your main alias. The one you will use most of the time when you graduate. It's the one your colleagues will know you by. It's the one you'll know yourself by. Your first assignment is to compile a backstory, a _**believable **_backstory for that alias. I'd like it on my desk by Wednesday. We're going to have a field test on Friday. You'll have field tests almost every Friday, so get used to it."

Everyone nodded with understanding, apparently thinking that this was going to be easy. "But don't think you're getting off that easy. Once class is over with, come up here and pick up the iPod with your name on it. On each of them are five of the languages you'll be tasked with learning. I'll expect you to be fluent in all five by the end of the month. Then you'll get another five. You don't all have the same, because some you already speak several languages. Also, girls pick a name out of the blue hat. It's Ladies' Choice. That's going to be your partner in Infiltration and Inducement." The whole class broke into grins.

"Wipe that smile off your faces. Get to work on your tells. Figure out what they are and eliminate them. Think back to when someone caught you in a lie and figure out why they did. Learn to use your heads, people. It's a good way not to get killed."

Two hours later, Chuck repeated the process over again. Had them all stand up and lie. Sam and Greta passed again. They made lying look effortless, even to a world-class spy who'd been lying his whole life.

The alarm on his watch rang, announcing that it was time to end the class for now. "Some of you still need to work on your tells. Lie to yourself in the mirror until you get it right. And get to work on your backstory. Your next class is with Colonel Casey. Get some ice packs. Oh, and ladies, don't forget to pick a name out of the hat."

The girls eagerly ran up to the hat and looked at their names. Some smiled with glee, others frowned and quickly tried to hide it. Sam didn't look at hers until she was out of the room: Dorian Brett.

_Ugh,_ she thought with a slight grimace. Dorian was tall, blond, and muscular. And thought of himself in the highest terms. He thought he was God's gift to Earth.

And she was going to have to try out seduction exercises on him? Fan-fucking-tastic.

_Well, maybe it won't be so bad,_ she told herself as she headed off to combat training.

After changing into to workout clothes, she met the imposing Colonel Casey in the gym with the rest of her class.

"All right, morons, we're going to start with something simple. The punch. One I feel certain you've got down hand-to-hand combat, we'll move on to weapons." His eyes lit up with the word "weapons."

Chuck was in the lounge, prepping for his next class when Casey barged in. "Chuck, we've got a problem. One of the newbies quit."

"What? It's only their second day. Which one?"

"Dorian Brett. Pretty boy, talked tough, but couldn't cut it. A little nerd named Reese kicked his ass, it was beautiful."

Chuck rolled his eyes. "Yeah, that's all good, Casey, but now my class is uneven. They just picked partners for seduction class."

"Not my problem. You'll figure it out. I'll catch you later. I gotta go check out 29 50-cal sniper rifles from the armory."

Chuck sighed. He had never known a recruit class to lose a student so early. This was already going well.

When he arrived at seduction class, the students looked bruised, really bruised. But that's what happened when you trained with Casey.

He cleared his throat. "Some of you may know that Dorian Brett is no longer with us." He shook his head in dismay. "May I ask which of you picked him as a partner?"

Sam slowly raised her hand. She was kind of upset, did this mean she had to sit the class out?

"Sam. Well, seeing that everyone is paired off, and Dorian's has left the building, I suppose I'm going to have to be your partner."

Sam couldn't say why, but she didn't have any objections to that.


	4. Chapter 4

Four

Chuck's words were still hanging in the air, and Sam told herself not to turn bright red. Chuck was going to be her partner? In seduction?

Well, at least she didn't have to make out with Dorian Brett. Anything was better than that. And Chuck was definitely way, way better than that.

"Ok," she said softly.

Chuck smiled at her. "You don't mind, do you? I did have to take this class once myself. I remember how awkward it gets. And trust me, it does get awkward. So I don't wanna make you uncomfortable."

He looked at her earnestly and she could tell that he was actually concerned with her comfort. Then she realized this was probably going to be weird for him too. He had just planned on teaching the class, not actually participating.

"No, it's cool," she told him. "It's nice to have a partner who's done this before."

He smiled. "Great. Okay, let's get to work. Welcome to Infiltration and Inducement of Enemy Personnel. AKA: Seduction Class. I'll be straight with you guys. There are times in this job when we have to get close to people._ Extremely_ close. And trust me, there is actually such a thing as a fatal attraction."

The class laughed, and Chuck thought it was good to put them at ease. Because things were about to get damn uncomfortable.

"To do this effectively, you have to be all in. If some you are uncomfortable using sex as a weapon, I suggest you get over that. Because that's what I'll be teaching you. You're going to meet dangerous people. But they're people, nonetheless. So they can be seduced."

He paused for a moment, looking at their faces. Some looked midly disconcerted, some looked totally freaked, and some looked completely at ease.

"Don't freak out," he told them with a smile. "It's just a part of the job. And that's the best way to look at it. Still, in order to do our jobs, we have to get close to people, seduce them. Make them reveal secrets. Make them trust us. We have to cast an irresistable spell on people who are taught to resist almost everything. The first step to doing this is to get comfortable in your own skin. Whatever it is that separates you from the person next to you, own it. Don't be afraid. Don't be intimidated. Think anything you want, you can have. In fact, say to yourselves right now: Anything I want, I can have."

"Anything I want, I can have," echoed through the room.

"Oh, you can do better than that. Say it like you mean it. Like you _**know **_it."

"Anything I want, I can have," stronger this time, more confident.

"Good. Very, very good. But as of this moment, it's not true. But it will be, very, very soon. It all starts with the way you carry yourself. Spies don't ask for what we want, we take it. In the art of seduction, the key is The Pull. You've got to draw, attract your mark to you almost instantly. Sam, since I'm your partner, could you come up here, please?"

Sam winced inwardly. She hated being called up to the front of the class. But, there wasn't a lot she could do about it. _Confident, _she told herself. _Anything I want, I can have._

"Ah, but before you walk up here," Chuck paused. "Let's talk about Sam for a sec. The Pull might be easy for her. She's tall, which automatically attracts attention. Her hair catches the light easily. Not to mention her face. All right, Sam, I'm your mark. How would you get me to notice you?"

Sam thought for a moment, and bit her lip. She thought about how the idiot boys in her school acted once she got her braces off. She thought about that bitch, Heather Chandler, how she always got the boys to notice her.

She stood up, suddenly wishing she'd worn something sexier than jeans and a tight-purple t-shirt. Then she strode purposefully towards the front of the class, as if she knew exactly where she was going.

She reached and pulled out the rubber band that held her ponytail and shook hair out slowly and then turned to face Chuck with a questioning look on her face. "How was that?"

Chuck's eyes had widened considerably, and he cleared his throat almost imperceptibly. "That…that was good."

Sam fought to keep a smile off her face, and tried for a professional nod.

Chuck told himself not to stare too long or too hard. _Be aloof. You're a spy, damn it. You're Charles fucking Carmichael._

"Ok," he said tearing his uncooperative eyes away from Sam and facing the class. "The Pull is the first step to a sucessful infiltration. And since you gotta crawl before you can walk, we'll start there. We'll work on attraction. Seduction is, for lack of a better word, an art. You can't rush it, you can't force it. And there is no such thing as seduction without attraction. Without heat. So that's where we'll start. Turn up the heat, turn up the attraction."

Abigail Gregg, a recruit that reminded Chuck eerily of Carina, smiled brightly. Clearly she thought she had this in the bag.

"But," Chuck stated firmly. "That doesn't mean just wearing a short dress, or using a catchy line. To some people, that's a major turn-off. A little subtlety will go a long way. Know when to charge, and know when to pull back. Of course, that all depends on your mark. We'll talk more about sizing people up in Manipulation and Subversion. Ok, and now for the awkward shit. I have to see what each of you need to work on. So grab your partners, and well…make out."

Sam's eyes nearly popped out of her head. Make out with Chuck? _Holy shit_ was the only thing that came to mind.

Daniel Shaw, who was partnered with Evelyn Pratt, raised his hand. "We have to make out…now?"

Chuck nodded. "And your partners have to grade you. Don't worry, the grades are for my eyes only. And lucky for me, I have to watch this all play out. Oh, the joy. We're about to get very techinical, about to get extremely deep into the nuances of _the kiss_. Let's get physical."

Sam's eyebrows shot straight up. _How many times am I going to have to kiss him? I mean, what if he thinks I'm a bad kisser? Do I fail? He's probably made out with French supermodels. _

Everyone sat awkwardly in their seats, none wanting to make the first move. It reminded Chuck of his days at the Farm. He was sorry. For him, mostly.

Was there anything worse than having to watch, instruct and correct fourteen couples making out? Now he knew how his instructor, Roan Montgomery, felt.

But he had a suspicion that Roan actually enjoyed it. Of course, Roan hadn't actually had to participate. But Chuck did. He shrugged it off. _What the hell, _he told himself. _I'm sure it'll be fine._

It wasn't like he hadn't kissed girls before. He'd made out with French supermodels for crying out loud. He'd had to judge his partner while he was at the Farm.

Of course, his partner had been Jill, so it wasn't exactly an issue. This was totally different.

"All right, let's not be shy," he said, trying to bolster their confidence. "The sooner we get started, the sooner we're done. And then we break for lunch. So let's work up an appetite. We'll start with The Peck."

He turned to Sam, who looked mildy apprehensive. So was he, but he knew he couldn't let that show. If he freaked, she would definitely freak.

And there wasn't anything to freak over, really. He kissed beautiful women all the time. But there was something more than beauty with that girl. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but she definitely had The Pull down, without even realizing it.

He took a step closer to her. "All right, Sam," he looked down at her with reassuring eyes. "It's okay. I'm going to kiss you now, if that's okay. Watch and learn, people."

He briefly made eye contact with Sam, before leaning in and kissing her gently, quickly. Sam felt her eyes close, as his soft, warm lips gently played over hers.

And an instant it was over. It had been quick and feather-soft, and Sam fought the dizzying effect with all her might.

He smiled gently down at her, wanting her to be at ease, then faced the class. "The Peck can say a lot of things, like 'hello', 'goodbye', 'I'm sorry', and the like. Since we have only a short time to complete missions, we have to work quickly. So a lot of times, we skip the Peck. Of course, if it's a long term assignment, pecks are quite useful. So get to it."

The couples turned to each other, some shrugging, some grinning, but all were clearly hesitant. They inched towards each other.

"Ok, stop," Chuck said, shaking his head. "First rule of the Peck: don't hesitate. Hesitating kisses include drama, suspense. Hesitating often preludes _a moment._ We're not discussing those…yet. So no hesitation. Just kiss."

And they did, quick kisses that were over almost as they began. Chuck trained himself to see fourteen kisses all at once. Some clearly needed to work on shyness, some needed a little shyness.

He turned to Sam, who was still fighting an extremely persistent blush. "All right, now we're gonna go the other end of the spectrum. Sam, I'm gonna have to kiss you as hard as I can."

Sam's mouth went slightly agape. He chuckled slightly. "It's okay. I'm your partner. Partnership is trust. So trust me. I don't bite. Well, I _won't _bite."

Sam took a breath._No big deal. It's just a kiss. Don't freak out._

So she stood on her tiptoes, telling herself no hestitation, no fear. Her eyes fluttered close right before his lips pressed down on hers.

He put his hands to her face, kissing her deeply. She felt her knees weaken and that slight dizzying feeling she'd felt earlier intensify as she kissed him back.

Chuck broke the kiss, pulling away, taking a nanosecond to steady himself. It'd been a while since he'd kissed someone like _**that. **_

Or maybe he'd just been kissing trained spies, assasins and femme fatales too long.

Sam was looking up at him anticipating, nervous eyes. "That…that was good," he told her, his voice nearly breaking.

Chuck's watch started buzzing, his signal to end the class. _Thank God, _he said to himself.

"All right, that's all for today. We've got lunch and you've got to get Stealth and Contingency. Work on your attraction skills. Tomorrow we're going to discuss getting marks to open up to us. For homework…make out. I'd like your partners' grades on my desk first thing tomorrow morning."

The class quickly shuffled out because apparently espionage training made you work up an appetite. Sam walked back to her desk, and gathered her things. She was heading out the door, when Chuck called her name.

"Sam, obviously, you're exempt from the homework assignment."

"I don't get to grade you?" she asked coyly.

Chuck laughed. "Unfortunately, no. See, I already passed this class."

"Well, I'm sure your old partner had no complaints." Sam's mouth opened slightly. She couldn't believe she'd just said that. Chuck's face clearly said the same thing._Ohmyfuckinggod, did I just say that?_

_Did she just say that? _Chuck thought with a small smile. Sam tried to quell her reocurring blush and grinned.

"Well, I better get to class," Sam mumbled, still wishing the ground would swallow her up.

She honestly couldn't believe the things that came out of her mouth sometimes.

Sam's first lunch at the Farm was a very unpleasant déjà vu. She looked around and saw all of her classmates, sitting with their partners.

Apparently they were getting a jump start on their homework.

It reminded her of high school, everyone all paired off.

Sam actually wanted to sit with Chuck.

But she couldn't sit with Chuck. He was sitting in a corner table with the other instructors Sam had met the day before. Bryce, Casey and Morgan. They were all there.

She wondered about the empty chair next to Chuck. Part of her wanted to be bold, saunter over and go and sit next to him.

He was the only person she'd actually had a real conversation with. But she knew whatever they were discussing was highly classified.

But it just felt awkward, going to sit with her classmates. They were all sitting in twos, more than likely discussing each other's kissing technique.

Just when Sam was thinking about skipping lunch and going for a run, a tall redheaded young woman strutted in. She looked around, eyed everyone with a bit of a smirk and then spotted Sam, standing back, trying to decide her next move.

Carina smiled. This girl had so much going for her, and she didn't even know it. Well, she could certainly remedy that.

She marched over to her. "You know, if the spy thing doesn't work out, you'll make a very good statue."

Sam was shaken out of her reverie and had to laugh. "Sorry, just kind of deciding where to sit."

Carina chuckled. "Decision over with. You're sitting with me. Come on."

She pulled Sam to a table that was directly to the right of Chuck's, she noticed he was checking his watch.

_Don't stare,_ she chided herself. She decided to focus on conversing with the very brazen redhead.

"So," the girl said crossing her legs. "Your name?"

"Sam. Yours?"

"Carina. Wait, Sam your real name?"

"Yeah."

"What's your cover?"

"Um, Sarah, Sarah Walker. But I haven't started using it yet."

"Oh, you really should. You need to getting used to shedding identities."

Sam smiled. "So, you're a student here?"

Carina scoffed. "Oh, God, no. I washed my hands of this place a long time ago. I'm just on leave, got nothing to do. I'm not even CIA. DEA. And a little bird told me that the Farm was the place to be. So I'm here trying to find a whisper of excitement."

"Have you?"

She shrugged and took a look around. "More or less. From the looks of this place, seduction class just started. That was my favorite class. How's it treating you? Did they stick you with a stud or a dud?"

"Well, a dud, at first. But he quit after two hours of Combat Training with Colonel Casey. So techincally, I'm partnered with Chuck."

Sam couldn't stop her eyes from glancing over at him when she said his name. Carina took note of that. "Well, I can tell you this: when was a student here, most girls, at least the ones in the know, would've killed to be in your shoes."

"Really? Why?"

Carina followed Sam's gaze, which hadn't left Chuck, who was laughing about something with Morgan.

"Well, let's just say Chuck is a bit of a hot commodity."

"Do you know him pretty well?" Sam couldn't stop herself from asking.

"Yeah. This one time in Cabo, he really saved my ass. Introduced me to my guy, Bryce."

Sam looked back to Carina. "You're with Bryce?"

Carina smiled. "Oh, yeah. Have been for a while. I told you, I like exciting. And he's definitely exciting."

"So why is Chuck such a 'hot commodity'."

Carina fought a knowing grin. "Well, anyone that knows who he really is, knows he comes one of the best spy families out there. The girls around here want to be part of that family, not to mention that Chuck, well he's one of the best. But don't tell him I said that."

Sam couldn't help but smile. She liked Carina. She seemed different than anyone she'd ever met. Fearless and brazen, unstoppable.

Sam found herself glancing over at Chuck's table. This time, their eyes met, and they both smiled, and looked away.

Carina, being Carina, noticed. _Dear God, did I just see what I think I saw? This ought to be good._

"But enough about Chuck…for now. How do you like spy school so far?"

Sam shrugged. "It's not how I pictured it. I don't know if I'll be any good at it, especially seduction."

"What, are you a prude?"

"No, definitely not a prude. I'm just not sure, like, how to attract someone to me."

Carina gave Sam a once-over. "It's not so hard. If you're hot, half the battle's already won. It's simply about drawing attention to yourself." She took note of Sam's clothes. "When's your first field test?"

"Friday."

"Then clear your Thursday night schedule, we're going shopping."

"I don't have much…"

"Never fear, the platinum card is here."

Sam smiled. She didn't think she'd ever had a girlfriend before. "So is there a secret, you know, to seduction?"

Carina smiled. "The secret to seduction is the same as the secret to being a spy: We don't ask for what we want, we take it. Watch and learn."

Carina got up from her chair, sashayed over to the table where Chuck, Bryce, Casey and Morgan were all sitting.

She didn't say a thing, just put her hands to Bryce's face, and kissed him. Hard.

Most of the recruits were probably surprised. But Chuck, Casey and Morgan did little but to roll their eyes. They were used to Carina and Bryce.

When they finally pulled away an eternity later, Carina smiled. "Hurry up," she whispered to him.

She smiled and then walked back over to Sam. "Piece of cake." Sam's blue eyes were filled with shock.

Meanwhile, Bryce was grinning like the Cheshire Cat and Chuck simply just shook his head.

"Should I be worried about Carina corrupting my recruits?" Chuck asked.

"Don't jump to conclusions," Bryce said, still grinning like a fool.

"My conclusions are totally justifiable. This _is_ Carina we're talking about here."

Everyone shrugged in agreement at that.

Morgan checked his watch. "Where the hell's Jill? I got class in a few."

On cue, Jill hurried into the lunchroom, carrying two huge portofolios and a fruit salad.

She scrambled over to the table and plopped down right next to Chuck.

"Sorry, I'm late," she said smiling at her colleagues. "I got caught tracking the new strain of H1N1 that's sweeping through Nicarauga."

"Did you run a diagnostic?" Chuck asked, his interest suddenly peaked.

"I did, and if you ask me, it's not just swine, something about it seems avian."

Casey rolled his eyes and grunted. "Great, nerd germ talk. Well, I'm sure that's fine and dandy, could we focus on the mission at hand?"

Being at The Farm made Casey grumpy, well grumpier. He couldn't shoot anyone at the Farm.

"Yes, we better focus," Chuck said. "What do we got, think any of them might be Volto?"

Casey shrugged. "Too early to say. Maybe Dorian Brett was Volto. Their operatives have been known to run from me."

"Everyone runs from you, Sugar Bear," Bryce said, using Casey's rarely used pet name. It was rarely used because he was known to choke people just for uttering it.

"Larkin, you say that name ever again and…"

"Yeah, yeah, I know you'll end me."

Chuck shook his head and cleared his throat. "Can we focus for a frigging second? We've got a mission here. Casey, any of them showing special skills in Combat Class?"

Casey shrugged. "Arkin's a badass. But that's to be expected. Pratt and Shaw are competent, loaded with questions. And then there's blondie over there, chatting it up with Carina."

Chuck glanced over at Sam, who was laughing at something Carina had just said. "Oh, Sam. She's promising."

Casey grunted in agreement. "Girl threw a hunting knife from 45 feet, hit the target dead on."

"Well Graham's recruits usually are exceptional." Jill said with a smile.

Chuck smiled back. "Valid point."

Bryce sighed. "So it could be any of them? We've got nothing?"

Chuck sighed. "It's only our second day. We're going to need time to smoke out the threat."

Casey grunted with annoyance. "I say we round them all up, load them up with sodium penthenol, they'll tell us what we wanna know."

"That plan would work, but they're not POWs, they're operatives in training," Morgan stated with incredulity.

"Thank you Agent Grimes, official stater of the obvious."

"Look, we'll keep the truth serum for our backup plan," Jill said, shaking her head. "We need to make these kids trust us."

Chuck shook his head. "If one or more of them are Volto, their guard is going to be up at all times. We need someone that they can feel comfortable with, someone who's not their instructor. We need a mole of our own."

Morgan scoffed. "A spy? We need a spy to spy on spies in training?"

"At this point, I can't think of a better plan."

Morgan stroked his beard in thought. "But who? We can't entrust the recruits with this."

"Not even Arkin?" suggested Jill.

Chuck scoffed. "If Arkin suspects one of these kids might be Volto, she'll take them all out. She's trigger happy, like _El Angel De La Muerte._"

Morgan shook his head. "This op…it's so sensitive."

"Yeah, that's why they picked us," Chuck pointed out. "We can do this. To catch the mole, we need a mole of our own."

Suddenly an idea came to Bryce. "Well, there is one person."

"Who?" Casey asked.

Bryce turned his ever so slowly in the direction of where Carina was sitting.

"Oh fuck no!" Jill said harshly. Jill couldn't stand Carina, and vice versa. "Not Carina. _**ANYONE**_ but Carina."

Bryce sighed. "Jill, I know she's not your favorite person, but we know we can trust her. Granted, she's…a wild card. But loyal to the American government. And loyal to me."

Chuck mulled it over for a second. Carina might be able to get close to the recruits, get them to trust her. And he knew Bryce was right. Carina might've been a cold-hearted, ruthless, nymphomaniac, but she was loyal. And in love with Bryce, not that she would ever admit it.

"We're gonna tell her," he said. "If she can get the recruits to trust her, then she might be able to see something we can't."

"Why would they trust her? They all just saw her sticking her tongue down Bryce's throat," Jill countered.

Casey shrugged. "That could mean so many different things. Besides, Carina's DEA. Volto won't expect her to know anything. We just need someone to keep an eye on the recruits, without raising the alarm bells. And from the looks of it, she's already getting friendly with them."

Chuck nodded. "As of now, it's our best option. Let's just hope it works."

Meanwhile, Sam was still having a good time, laughing and chatting with Carina when she noticed that the empty seat next to Chuck was no longer empty.

There was a leggy, raven-haired woman with glasses who was smiling and laughing with the boys, like she'd known them for years.

"Carina, who's that?" she couldn't stop herself from asking.

Carina glanced over and rolled her eyes. "Oh, that's Jill."

"Jill?"

"Yeah, or I guess to put in techincal terms, that is Special Agent Jill Roberts, CIA. She's Chuck's ex-girlfriend. Although, I don't know what the hell she's doing here. Last time I heard she was in Hartford."

"Oh, she used to date Chuck?"

Carina decided she'd ignore the way Sam's voice had changed. "Yeah, they go way back. But they just recently called it quits, for the like the fourth time. But she's not supposed to be here."

"What, at the Farm?"

Carina shook her head. "Bryce didn't tell me she was coming." The wheels in Carina's head started turning.

You had five of the CIA's top field operatives suddenly stateside recruit training…something was off. Unless something more than recruit training was going on.

She didn't know, but she was going to find out.

A buzzer sounded, signaling the end of lunch break. It was time to get back to work.

The recruits filed out, most heading to Stealth and Contingency.

Their trainers were about to get up when Carina sauntered over to them.

She leveled each of them with a cool gaze. "Ok, enough of this bullshit. Anyone of you want to tell me what the hell is really going on here?'"

"It's nice to see you too, Carina," Jill said sarcastically.

Carina didn't spare a glance in Jill's direction. "Look, all of you here can only mean one thing: something is going on. Unless you all screwed up simulataneously and got demoted. So spill already. What's up?"

Chuck looked around, making sure the room was completely empty. "We're gonna need your help on something, Carina."

"Naturally," she said with an unamused smile. "But what is it?"

Chuck sighed, part of him didn't want to tell her. "We have intel that Volto is trying to infiltrate the Farm."

"Holy hell," was her only response.

Later that night, Chuck sat in his room, thinking, mulling the whole situation over in his head, trying to think of any extraordinary moment that might reveal who the mole was.

So far, he had nothing. He turned on his laptop and updated his mission log:

"Day 3: Still no clue who the mole is. Could be any of them. For all I know, there might not be a mole. But Volto plotting an external strike on The Farm seems way too out there. In other events, it's only day three and one of the recruits already quit. Dorian Brett was promising on paper, but that was about it. He couldn't handle it once the Casey was unleashed." Chuck couldn't keep the smile out of his voice as he said it.

"Of course, Casey is a notorious hard-ass. I don't know how good I'm doing at this training thing. I want this team to the be the best there ever was. But I'm definitely hands-on at seduction. With Brett's sudden departure, I'm left to partner with…Sam. I mean, it's not that I mind. I just don't want her to be uncomfortable. I mean, she's pretty great. Has a lot of potential. I wonder how she's coping. She had a long conversation with Carina today. Would've loved to had a bug on that particular moment. I'm worried about my dad. He would've called or sent me an encrypted email. I'm supposed to go see Ellie in a couple of weeks. What am I supposed to tell her? God, I've gotta figure this out. Figure out Volto's game. But I think I'm going to hit the sack. Chuck out."

But sleep didn't come easily for Chuck. He tossed and turned for hours, his relentless thoughts never letting him rest. And when he finally found a moment of sleep, nightmares of Cairo still plauged him.

At around midnight, he decided to get out of his room. He needed to focus on something other than his own thoughts.

He poured himself a glass of vodka and headed to the lounge, thinking a little _Call of Duty _would help. It always did, after all.

When he got there, there was one person his mind kept going back to. Sam was sitting on a couch, on her phone. Her back was turned to him.

"I know, Mom. I miss you too. But this…it's amazing. Ok, I will. I love you too."

Chuck was about to tiptoe out of the lounge, but his shoes squeaked and Sam whirled around to face him.

He held his hands up quickly. "Sorry, I wasn't trying to spy. Just couldn't sleep."

Her face softened. "No, it's okay, Chuck. You scared me. I was on the phone with my mom. She wants to know everything that's happening. I keep telling her that I can't tell her. But I guess I better get used to keep secrets from her."

Chuck smiled. "I wish I could say I knew how you felt, but my mother knows everything about me. Although, I'm not sure if I know everything about her."

Sam had to laugh. "I miss her. And she's worried about me. I guess she never pictured me in the world of international espionage."

Chuck smiled, and neither of them said anything for a moment. "Well, you got dibs on the lounge," Chuck said, backtracking out of the room. "And I really better get some sleep."

"Um, uh, Chuck, wait."

He turned to face her. "Yeah?"

"I just had a question. Um, today in Stealth and Contingency, Morgan said he was going to make us as 'invisible as Sam Wheat.' Um, who's Sam Wheat? Is he like a legendary spy or something."

Chuck's eyebrows furrowed and then he smiled. "No, no, Sam Wheat from _Ghost._"

Sam's face registered blank.

"_Ghost,_" Chuck prodded. "You know, early 90s classic, Patrick Swayze, Demi Moore, Whoopi Gold…you've never seen _Ghost_?"

Sam just shook her head.

Chuck's jaw dropped. "Oh, my God. Oh, my God. I have to educate you. Just, uh, stay here. I'll be right back."

Ten minutes later, Chuck had grabbed the _Ghost _DVD from his room, popped some popcorn and was still flabbergasted that Sam had never seen it.

"I moved around so much, I guess I never really had time for movies," she explained shyly.

"No time for movies? Not even _Star Wars?_ Oh, god, I can't believe it. Well, I guarantee you're going to love this one. Classic love story. Well, not as classic as _Casablanca."_

"I've never seen that either."

Now, Chuck really couldn't believe it. "Never? Oh, my God. Well, we'll have to do something about that. Maybe tomorrow." Chuck settled next to her on the couch and started the movie.

Roughly two hours later, the movie had ended. And Chuck was dying to know her opinon of it.

"It was good," she said. "It was sad. And to be betrayed by your friend like that, I can't even imagine.

Chuck smiled. "I still can't believe you've never seen it. Ok, so no time for movies. What about music? You have a favorite band?"

Sam thought for a moment and shook her head.

Chuck almost burst out laughing. "I can't believe this. What, no Britney? Or Backstreet? Sinatra, maybe?"

Sam just smiled and shrugged. "Music has not been at the top of my list."

"Well, we'll have to work on that."

They talked for hours, discussing bands and movies that Sam had never seen or heard of. And it was a long list. The last movie she'd remembered watching was _Breakfast at Tiffany's_ on a weekend trip with her grandmother when she was eleven.

This all came as such a great shock for Charles Irving Bartowski, who although, had spent most of his life on one mission after the other with his parents, always made time to see any significant movie or band.

He gave her his Must List, movies she simply could not live without seeing. _Star Wars _and _Tron_ were naturally at the top of the list.

Neither could say when the conversation stopped flowing as they both gave into sleep. Somehow, her head found its way to his shoulder. And for some reason, this time, sleep came all too easily for Chuck.

Dawn was rising over Camp Peary, recruits and instructors were just beginning to rise. Bryce had reluctantly left Carina and their bed for a morning jog.

He hoped the recruits were fitting in time for exercise. There was no room for laziness or idleness at the Farm.

He bumped into Morgan who had been jogging. "You seen Chuck?" was his first question.

Bryce shook his head. "He's not in his room?"

"I went by there earlier, wanted to see if he wanted to jog, wasn't there. Maybe got an early start."

Bryce shrugged. "Probably going over lesson plans in the lounge. We'll head over. You still worried about him?"

"Aren't you?" Morgan countered. "He saw three of his teammates murdered. You know how guilty he must be feeling. And now all this with Volto. I'm just happy he's handling it as well as he is."

Bryce had to agree. Chuck seemed to be doing better, less stressed and agitated. But then again, he was a world class spy, a master of manipulation. If he wanted them to think he was doing better, then they probably would.

But they knew that he was focused, he wanted to take Volto down. They knew he wouldn't let anything distract him from his objective.

At least they knew that until they walked into the nearly empty lounge at 6:02 that morning, and found him asleep on the couch, with a recruit laying next to him.

"Holy shit," Bryce said.

"I don't believe this," Morgan said whispering. "I'm not believing. Tell me I'm not seeing this. Are you seeing this? Are we seeing this right now?

Bryce shook his head and crept over to the couch. Smoothly, steadily, he shook Chuck awake and pulled him from the couch, careful not to wake Sam.

They hustled him out of the lounge and into an empty hallway.

Chuck, still dazed and groggy wasn't quite aware of what was going on. "Guys, what the hell?" he mumbled sleepily.

"Shouldn't we be asking you that question?" Bryce snapped. "Chuck, are you fucking serious? I can't believe you."

"Can't believe what? What the hell are you talking about?" he answered, more alert.

Morgan scoffed. "What the hell are we talking about? Charles, you and the recruit all hugged up. What the hell was that?"

It dawned on Chuck. Finally. "Oh, God. That wasn't what it looked like. I swear, it wasn't."

"Well, that would depend on what it looked like, would it not?" Bryce said. "What the hell are you thinking?"

"We were watching a movie, it was nothing. We just must've fell asleep."

"Why, why would you even let yourself be in such a compromising situation? Are you sleeping with her?"

"No, no. Well, I mean, I guess techinically, I did. But not like that. Bryce, you know me. We were talking and…"

Morgan and Bryce's eyes widened. "Oh, my God. You like her," Morgan said with finality.

Chuck scoffed. "That's preposterous."

"Dude, this is me you're talking to. You like her. I can't believe you, Chuck. You're crazy."

Bryce shook his head. "You just better be happy we found you, and not Casey. Your ass would be in a choke hold. Chuck, she's a recruit. You're not supposed to be anywhere near that close to her."

Chuck just shook his head. "You're overreacting."

Bryce rolled his eyes. "No, you're overreacting, getting all caught up like that. You need to distance yourself from ASAP."

"Well, that's not going to happen. I'm her partner in seduction."

"No, you're her _trainer _in seduction. Good Lord. This is bad. You really do like her."

"No, he doesn't," Bryce stated. "Chuck doesn't like this girl. Because Chuck knows how much trouble he would be in if he did. Chuck understands the gravity of the situation and is not about to be emotionally compromised by some kid."

"She's not a kid," Chuck said firmly.

Morgan and Bryce looked at each other. "Snap out it!" they demanded.

"What if I can't?"

"Then we're royally fucked. And we're going to be late. Dude, you need to shake this and quick."

He heard his friends' words and knew they were true, but somehow he knew it was already too late for that.


	5. Chapter 5

**Again so sorry for the delay, we all know how real life gets. So here is the latest chapter. Please let me know what you think.**

Five

When Sam woke up, Chuck was gone. She couldn't believe they'd fallen asleep, and slept through the whole night. Or at least, she had.

"Shit," she muttered. But she smiled, as she remembered the night before. It had been fun, and nice, and sweet. Or maybe it was Chuck who had been all those things. She didn't know.

All she knew was she couldn't wait to see him again. And thankfully, she didn't have to.

She rushed back to her dorm, eager to quickly change clothes, and get to class.

Eve was already there, dressed and listening to an iPod. She was praticing her German. From the sound of it, she still needed more work.

But Sam honestly couldn't care less about her at that moment. She wanted to take her time getting ready, picking out her best clothes.

_OMG. Do I want to look pretty for…him? Oh, god. Can this be happening? Snap out of it, Sam. He's your teacher._

But she couldn't help but smile when she thought about passionately he talked of _Star Wars_ and Marvel versus DC. There was so much more to him than a spy. He was a person.

An honest, sincere person. Sam had never met too many of those. And she was guessing that in Chuck's line of work, he didn't either.

And he was funny, and sweet and was telling her about things she'd never heard of. She was touched when he told her she could come by and listen to his vinyl collection.

She looked at herself in the mirror and realized she was gushing. Over her teacher. That couldn't be good.

Granted, she was an adult. She was free to gush over whoever the hell she wanted to.

But The Farm had a "no fraternerzation" policy. She knew it applied to recruits, so she was pretty confident it applied to recruits/instructor situation.

Not that she wanted to fraternize with Chuck. Or did she?

_Get a grip, Sam. He's your teacher. He probably thinks you're a kid. He's your trainer, your instructor. You can't have a crush on him. You just can't._

She was chiding herself to no avail. She _**DID**_ have a crush on Chuck, there was no denying that.

But she could try to. She would try not to spend copious amounts of time with him. But he was her partner, in seduction class, no less.

He taught two of her classes and they had a weird habit of running into each other.

But she liked running into him, she liked spending time with him. She liked him. She really liked him.

_Oh God, _she thought as she fell back on her bed. She was here to train, to be a government operative. She was not here to fall in love.

Love? _**LOVE?**_

_No, no_ she told herself. _I am not falling in love with him. Yes, he's cute and funny and possibly the sweetest person I've ever known, but I AM NOT FALLING IN LOVE WITH HIM_.

All she had to do was keep telling herself that, and she was confident that it would be true.

* * *

Chuck changed clothes and headed to meet his team for breakfast. Jill was glaring at Carina, who was whispering to Bryce, who exchanged a glance with Morgan, and then both glared at Chuck.

Chuck ignored their glares and sat down opposite Casey.

Casey was engrossed in the latest issue of _Guns & Ammo_, and hadn't noticed the evil eyes that Bryce and Morgan were sending Chuck.

Jill handed Chuck a mug. "Chocolate latte with a shot of hazelnut and a dash of nutmeg," she said with a smile. "See? I remember."

He smiled at her for a moment. "Thanks."

A burst of a giggle from Carina, as Bryce whispered to her, made Jill roll her eyes.

Chuck, knowing that the two women didn't need to be in close proximity for an extended amount of time, cleared his throat. "Guys, can we focus on today's agenda? The mission."

Bryce leveled Chuck with a dark glance. "Really? _**I'm **_the one that needs to focus?"

The two friends stared intently at each other for a few quiet moment, their silence speaking volumes.

Casey looked up, rolled his eyes and grunted: Number 18: Exasperation and Disdain. "Whatever the hell it is that's got you two bitchin', can it for now. We've got real work to do."

"He's right," Bryce said, never taking his eyes from Chuck. "We're playing for keeps here. We can't afford risky distractions."

One of Jill's eyebrows shot up. What the hell was going on?

Carina just shook her head. Something had clearly gone down between Bryce and Chuck. Something probably involving that recruit Chuck couldn't keep his eyes off of.

"Agreed," Morgan said with a nod of his head. "We need to stay focused. This mission is top priority, it's like the most important mission…"

Chuck had heard enough. "Don't think for one second you can sit there and tell me what's important. This is _**my **_op after all."

"Then act like it," Bryce said firmly.

"What the hell is going on?" Jill finally asked.

Bryce and Chuck looked at Jill then back at each other. Both shrugged. "Nothing."

Jill rolled her eyes. She wasn't buying that for a second.

"Okay, I'm bored," Carina stated flatly. "Last night, I did a little recon. From what I could gather, some of the recruits are tight-knit, already fast friends. Maybe even a little too fast. Shaw and Pratt are a good example. They were out in the lobby studying together for hours. Seems like a bit of a flirtation to me. Arkin spent half of last night at the shooting range, the girl has dead-on aim. Johns and Reese seem to be fast friends."

Chuck shook his head. "I can't sit around and wait for Volto to strike. The Farm is far too valuable to be infiltrated. We're sitting around, trying to figure out who it could be, and they could be learning the place's weaknesses, mapping out their plan of attack. Whoever the hell it is, they're smart enough to lay low."

"Relax, Bartowski," Casey grunted. "We haven't even been here a week. The first field test is coming up. We'll keep our eyes open. For now, we just act like we know nothing."

But the wait was getting to Chuck. This mission was extremely personal to him. He should've been focused on nothing else.

But he couldn't stop thinking about Sam. He'd never met anyone like her. But he needed to focus. _Head in the game,_ he told himself.

And as much as it pained him to admit it, Morgan and Bryce were right. He couldn't afford distractions. And Sam distracted him. He didn't know how, or why or what the hell it was; but whenever she was around, everything else seemed not to matter.

A dangerous predicament to be in when dealing with Volto, he knew.

_Get a handle on yourself. She's a recruit, you're her instructor. Off-limits. And you've got more important things to focus on. Volto. Volto. Volto._

After breakfast, Chuck went back to his room and took a look at his lesson plans. He almost groaned out loud when he realized was on the agenda for Inducement and Infiltration: Dance Lessons.

Specificially, the tango. _Holy shit. _Normally, the instructor would bring in a partner, but since Sam was partnered with Chuck, this lesson was about to get very hands-on.

He needed to be a spy, a professional. But professionalism seemed not to exist when she was around.

It was times like this when he needed Ellie Advice. He grabbed his phone and dialed her number.

"Hey," she answered cheerily. "How are you?"

"Hey, sis. I'm in a bit of a pickle."

"Oh, God, you're not in danger, are you?"

"No, no. I'm not. Well, not imminent danger, at least. You know, I can't go into specifics. But I'm in Virginia on assignment. A really important, crucial assignment. But I can't seem to stay focused on it."

"Hmm," Ellie said knowingly. "And is there a reason for that?"

"Well, there's this…girl, woman…whatever you want to call her. And she's distracting me."

"You like her?"

Chuck paused. Did he like Sam? Well, that depended on how you defined "liked".

If by "liked", you meant he saw her potential, thought she'd make an excellent operative, then the answer was clearly yes.

But if by "liked", you meant that he couldn't seem to take his eyes or his thoughts off of her, well that wasn't a question he was prepared to answer.

"Uh…" he stammered.

"So you do like her," Ellie stated matter-of-factly. "What's the problem?"

"She's kind of, well actually, she's extremely off-limits."

"Is she a spy?"

"Well, she's not a civilian. Not anymore. I just don't know what to do."

"Chuck, you need to stay focused on your assignment. If you don't, you could get hurt. None of us want that…not again. At the same time, you're more than a just spy."

Chuck sighed. "I don't know if I can be more than a spy right now. I'm dealing with extremely dangerous people."

Ellie laughed. "Isn't that what you do everyday? Chuck, you're a CIA agent. It's your job to handle dangerous people." Her tone turned more serious. "I still think you should've taken more time off."

"I'm fine, El. It's just…weird. Usually, I'm able to focus no matter what. But when she comes around, my objective goes into the back of my mind."

Ellie sighed. "Chuck, what do you always tell me when I ask why you chose to join the family business?"

"That I made a decision to protect something bigger than yourself. And that it was the right choice."

"And I'm proud of you, little brother. You're a spy, you're a hero. But you're a person. And personally, I think you could afford to worry about yourself a little more. But maybe not while you're on a mission. You need to focus so can come home safe."

"You're right. Of course you are. You're Ellie, you're always right."

"But at the same time, if you really feel something for this girl, it might be possible to ignore."

"That's what I'm afraid of. But I guess I'm just going to have to try. Thanks for the advice, El."

"Anytime. Can't wait to see you. Stay safe, all right."

"I will. Love you."

"Love you too."

Chuck hung up. His sister's advice had only reaffirmed what he already knew. He had to ignore this growing attraction, squelch it, quell it, kill it…whatever he had to do to focus.

If only he had the slighest idea how to do that.

* * *

Class came too soon, and couldn't get there fast enough for Sam's taste.

Too soon because she wasn't entirely sure how she was supposed to act around Chuck. At the same time, she wanted to see him. Her world was upside down.

Class was being held in what looked like a dance studio. And she'd been given a sleeveless black dress and a pair of high heels to wear.

Clearly, they were going to be learning some type of dance. For some reason, the thought of dancing with Chuck made her fingers tingle.

She couldn't keep her eyes off the clock, wondering when he'd walk in.

The whole class was there, all dressed for dance, waiting.

The door opened and Sam's face fell when Agent Larkin entered, followed by Carina. But she could hardly contain her smile when Chuck walked in, bringing up the rear.

She couldn't help but think that he looked really handsome in his tight black t-shirt and slacks. _Don't stare,_ she scolded herself. _Look at the ceiling, look at the floor, look anywhere else_.

She settled for looking at her hand, trying to engross herself in the condition of her cuticles.

Little did she know, that poor Chuck himself was enduring a similiar struggle.

He didn't expect her to look that good in the dress. He knew she'd look good, but God, did she have to look **THAT **good? This was going to be harder than he thought.

But it was just everything about her, the way her swept up hair drew attention to her face, it the way the light caught her earrings, the way she smiled at something a fellow recruit whispered to her.

_Focus, focus, focus,_ he ordered himself.

He cleared his throat, calling the class to order. "Morning, class," he said, fixing himself not to meet Sam's eyes, who were still looking down at her cuticles.

"Today we begin dance lessons. Some of you might be wondering why the hell do you have to learn to dance? Well, a lot of the places you go, it's an invaluable skill. Bad guys like to throw lavish, gaudy parties. And you'll get kicked out if you can't manage a tango. Trust me."

Bryce and Carina laughed. Chuck nodded to Carina. "Allow me to introduce Agent Carina Miller. She and Agent Larkin will be acting as guides for today's lesson: The Tango. Considered the most sultry and seductive dance of them all."

Chuck walked over to the sound system located in the far north corner of the studio. A rythmic Latin tune began to play.

"Bryce, Carina, if you please," Chuck said. "Watch and learns, recruits. Watch and learn."

Bryce pulled Carina tightly into his arms, their bodies almost melded into each other.

They swayed gracefully over the floor, moving as one. The whole thing breathed sex. From the way Bryce's hand gripped Carina's hip, to the way their eyes never left each other's face.

Sam's jaw dropped. _I have to do THAT…with Chuck?!_

She couldn't decided if she was excited or scared beyond belief, but she figured it was probably both. Just watching this dance was making her blush. How the hell was she supposed to do this, without making a fool of herself?

She dared not think about what it would feel like to have Chuck hold her like that.

But she didn't have to imagine. Because with one final dramatic dip and swoop, Bryce and Carina's dance ended. The recruits applauded in awe.

Carina took a dramatic bow.

Chuck just shook his head and turned to face the recruits. "That's what you'll be learning over the course of the next week. Following that, it's the waltz. Then the samba and well, you get the idea. And even though it might seem unnecessary, my job is to make sure you're prepared to face any situation you might face in the field. So ladies, grab a magazine," he said motioning to the stacks of magazine on a table. "And join your partners."

Sam grabbed a magazine, which was just an old issue of _People. _

She walked over to Chuck, who smiled cordially. He had a really beautiful smile, but she tried not to think about that.

She just returned his smile and handed him the magazine.

He pressed it up against his chest and held it.

"Okay, guys, press the magazine up against your chest. Place your right hand on your partner's hip, like so," he said as he positioned his hand around Sam, who tried not to blush.

"In order to tango, you must be pressed against one another so close that the magazine never falls to the ground."

He pulled Sam close with the hand that had been holding the magazine. That magazine the only barrier between them.

Of course, that did little to cool the heat between them. Heat they were both trying to ignore.

He cleared his throat almost silently, reminding himself of his vow to be distant, aloof and professional.

Of course, it was extremely hard to be distant to someone who was literally _**smushed **_against you.

Their position aside, the thing about about the tango was you had to remain eye contact.

"Keep your eyes locked on your partner," Chuck informed the class, meeting Sam's eyes.

"Ladies, place your hand delicately on your partner's shoulder…and well…let him lead you."

"And 1,2,3,4" Bryce said as he and Carina watched the dancing recruits with critical eyes.

Sam kept her eyes locked on Chuck's as he spun them around the room. Every once in a while he'd glance up, eye a recruit who was falling out of step.

Bryce eyed Chuck intensely. "I don't fucking believe this," he muttered to Carina.

"Don't believe what?"

"Chuck. Chuck and that recruit. He's falling all over her. This is ridiculous. He can't be like this, he's compromising the mission."

Carina, on a professional level, agreed one hundred percent. Chuck was clearly enamored with Sam. "Bryce, he's been through a lot. But we know that no one wants to take down Volto more than he does."

"Then he needs to get his head in the game."

Carina rolled her eyes. "I'm sure he knows that. Chuck would never compromise a mission, especially not one involving Volto. Look whatever it is between him and that recruit, I trust him to get a handle on it."

In truth, Carina didn't trust Chuck one bit to get a handle on it. She could tell it was going to be trouble. She could feel in the air. Of course, Carina lived for trouble.

And part of her wanted to see where it was going. "Look, Bryce, if it makes you feel any better, I'll keep an eye on the recruit. Her and I are going shopping after class today."

Bryce smiled. "Good. Good. I still don't trust her. Keep an eye on her. Figure out why she's getting so close to Chuck."

"You don't think she's the mole, do you?"

Bryce shrugged. "She's Graham's recruit, which means she's probably legit. Might not be Volto, but Graham might be telling her to keep tabs on Chuck. If that's true, well I don't want him to get hurt."

Carina eyed Sam and had a hard time believing that she was more than a starry-eyed newbie who had a thing for Chuck. Still, she'd find out more tonight.

But it was possible that Graham had sent her to watch Chuck. Everyone was still worried about him.

And now Chuck was staring to worry about himself. He couldn't seem to take his mind off of Sam. Of course, he was currently spinning her around a dance floor.

He could feel her heart beating wildly through the magazine. He could hear his own pounding inside his head.

And all he could think was _I wanna kiss this girl_.

And the only thing he could think after that was _God help me_.

* * *

The sun was setting outside The Farm when Carina knocked on Sam's door.

"You ready to rock?" she asked casually.

Sam smiled eagerly. "I think I am."

Carina smiled. "Don't think. Know."

Sam liked Carina, but her thoughts were far from a day of shopping and girl-talk. All she could do was think about Chuck. And she knew it was becoming a serious conflict of interest.

All day in Endurance Training, Agent Larkin had talked about the need to calm emotions, supress feelings, and put personal lives on the backburner.

Feelings were liabilities, made them weak, made them take risks. And do stupid things that would get them killed.

The people they fought were ruthless and cold-blooded. They had to think like them. They couldn't afford to get attached to anything or anyone more valuable than they were.

Being a government operative meant putting yourself out on a wire with no net. He said he couldn't count the amount of missions that had failed based on emotional compromise.

She didn't know why, but it seemed as if he was looking right at her.

The words hit home. If she was going to do this job properly, she couldn't have feelings for Chuck. She wouldn't have feelings for Chuck.

Or at least that's what she kept telling herself.

Even as they were driving away from The Farm in Carina's bright red Lhamborgini, Sam tried not to think about Chuck. Tried to think about anything, everything else.

So she threw herself into conversation with Carina. "You know, Sam, you really do have it all. The looks, the talent. You just need to know how to use it. For instance, those t-shirts and sweatpants? Burn those. All of them. That's not what a spy wears, unless it's for cover. We have to be able to take whatever we want. That means we have to be someone people can't say no to, someone people can't resist. So that's what I'm going to do. I'm going to make you irresistable. Trust me, you've already got it. You've just got to let it come out."

"And you can do that?"

"I'm a spy. I can do anything. And so can you, once I'm done. Tonight, you say goodbye to the old you. Tonight, you become Sarah Walker."

* * *

Meanwhile, Chuck was sitting on his bed, nursing a glass of whiskey. This assignment was getting out of his control, and that was never a good thing.

He sighed and turned on his laptop, updating his mission log. "Day 6: Well, I think this has to be the most complicated mission of my life. I've never, never been so emotionally compromised. I wasn't this bad off when Jill got taken. What the hell is wrong with me? I'm such an idiot. I'm losing focus, taking my mind off the objective all because of some, beautiful, smart recruit with like the bluest eyes…oh God. What the fuck…I've got to get a handle on this. Or I'm going to have to recuse myself. And I'll be damned if I let Volto infiltrate the Farm. But…I want her. Oh, man, I need to go shoot something. Chuck out."

But he didn't head right to the range, he needed to get some work done, he realized. He needed to prepare for the first field test. It was simple, all the recruits had to do was go into a club, pick a mark and get their phone number.

He thought back when he'd taken that first field test. He remembered her name, Toni. She had auburn hair and piercing gray eyes. She'd been sitting at the club, reading the lastest issue of _Justice League_.

_Piece of cake,_ he'd thought.

She seemed totally disinterested in the club scene. Chuck found out later that she had been dragged there by her party-girl sister, Winnie.

It had been a piece of cake. He just hoped Toni hadn't been too disappointed when he never called. He realized then that he never thought too much about marks or assets or targets after the mission was over with. Thinking too much about expendable people was never good, he knew.

So why couldn't he stop thinking about Sam?

Meanwhile, Carina had been whisking Sam all over Virginia. Currently they were at Jazz, a high-end spa where she was talking Sam into getting waxed.

"Is this really necessary?" she asked with a cringe on her face.

Carina nodded eagerly. "I assure you it is."

Carina had already bought Sam six new dresses, and about fourteen negilegees. Although Sam didn't really know when she was going to have an opportunity to wear them.

"Carina, I really appreciate all of this," Sam told her earnestly. "I don't think ever been shopping with a girlfriend before."

Carina smiled. "Oh,well us girls in the spy biz have to stick together."

"Am I really going to need all of that lingerie?"

Carina nodded. "Oh yeah. Us girls in the spy biz have to employ seduction a lot more than the boys. You see, it's much easier to whack a guy if you're in the same bed."

Sam turned bright red. "Oh." But she really shouldn't have been surprised. "We really do use sex as a weapon, huh?"

"All the time."

"That's great for me, considering I've never…"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Carina stopped her right there. "The only good virgins are the margheritas. And that's _**if**_ you're on a mission. I suggest you get rid of that before you graduate."

"There's the no dating rule."

Carina rolled her eyes. "That's like the most broken rule ever. It's almost impossible to enforce. And we're secret agents, our job is to break rules."

Sam thought for a moment. "So, if there was one thing you really wanted, but couldn't have…"

Carina looked her square in the face. "You take it."

* * *

Chuck hit snooze on his alarm clock for the third time. He didn't want to get out of bed, he didn't want to move.

His nightmares were getting worse, more intense. He could still hear the bullets firing, still smell the gunpowder.

On top of it all, it was Friday. The first Field Test for the recruits. They would spend all day getting ready for it.

Chuck knew he had to keep his eyes open. He had to be alert, this was probably a chance to spot the Volto mole.

Of course, if he couldn't keep his eyes off Sam, then he was going to have a problem.

Fortunately, he hadn't ran in to her the night before. He'd stayed in his room to make sure that didn't happen. But he couldn't help but wonder what she was doing, who she was with.

When he finally dragged himself out of bed, he poured himself a glass of whiskey.

"Whiskey for breakfast?" asked Morgan as he barged in. "Something must be off."

"I'm fine," he lied.

"Yeah, see that's what you've been telling yourself ever since you got back from Cairo. But you're not fine, Chuck. The least you could do is admit it, to yourself."

"Morgan, I don't need you to be my shrink right now. That's Dr. Dreyfus' job."

Morgan rolled his eyes. "And when are you seeing him again?"

"Sunday. And I'm sure he'll tell all of you that I'm fine."

"But you're not."

Chuck didn't bother to answer, just walked into the shower. The most annoying thing about Morgan was that there was nothing he knew better than Chuck.

After he got dressed, Chuck decided to go jogging with Casey. Casey, being Casey, sure as hell didn't want to hear Chuck talk about his feelings, which was good because at the moment, he didn't want to.

"How's the recruits doing with special weapons?"

Casey grunted: Number 11: Mildly Impressed. "Fair, I'd say. Some of them were born to hold rifles, others were born to throw bombs. But they're coming along. How they doing in seduction?"

"Well, they just started the tango. Some of them catch on pretty quick, some are late bloomers."

"Making the mole almost impossible to smoke out," Casey grunted again: Number 4: Growing Annoyance.

"Hey John," Chuck asked, changing the subject. "How's Ilsa?"

Ilsa Trichinia, French Secret Service, lover of one Colonel John Casey. She was currently on assignment in Normandy.

Casey shrugged.. "She's…good. We're…good. Why do you ask, Bartowski?"

Chuck shrugged. "I don't know. I guess, I'm just curious about love and the spy game."

"What you and Jill heating up again?"

Chuck shook his head. "That ship has sailed. I'm just glad we can still work together."

"Well I'm sure you'll find another brunette nerd that likes to drone on and on about infectious diseases."

"Maybe brunettes aren't my thing anymore."

Casey laughed. "Doesn't matter, Bartowski. None of us can afford to think about our love lives right now. Bigger fish to fry. Especially since you dragged us all down here with you."

"Quit your whining. The government needs their best on this. And that's us."

Casey didn't argue with that. Just grunted again and challenged Chuck to a race.

* * *

Sam sat in her room, trying to think of what dress to wear. Should it be the sparkly purple number with the one shoulder or the little black halter dress?

She had to pick soon. The class was leaving for the field trip in an hour.

Her hair, courtesy of Carina, was in long, flowing curls. And she looked good, if she did say so herself.

There was a certain confidence that came almost automatically when you knew you looked good.

Part of her wanted to impress Chuck, the other part just wanted to do a good job.

Her mission was simple, sight a mark, flirt, and get his phone number. Everyone else had to do the same thing.

Still, Sam could count the times she'd flirted with guys…on half of one hand.

Needless to say, she was nervous. But she just kept chanting in her head _Anything I want, I can have._

It was her first time wearing a comm, outside of class. She was going to be linked in to everyone's comm, including Chuck's who would be supervising the whole thing.

She finally decided on a dress, a dark blue spaghetti strap with shoes to match. "Thanks, Carina," she found herself saying out loud.

Carina was someone who knew how to get what she wanted. Sam hoped she could be too.

She finished getting dressed, because ready or not, there was no going back now.

* * *

It was eight thirty when three nondescript black vans pulled into the parking lot of an Arlington nightclub called Whiplash.

Chuck had already been there for a half hour with Morgan.

This was it, the Field Test. Where the real operatives would start to separate themselves from the pack.

Chuck knew he had to focus, and it felt good to be out on what felt like a real assignment.

But, really he was just here to watch the recruits in action.

"You don't want to be here," Morgan stated matter-of-factly as the two of them sat at the bar.

"Do you?" Chuck asked. "I think we'd all rather be somewhere else, staging a coup, blowing something up, anything else."

Morgan shrugged. "Granted. But I have feeling that tonight will be a night we won't forget."

And suddenly his jaw dropped. Chuck turned to see what he was looking at.

And there she was, her blond hair bouncing as she walked in the room, the club lights lighting her path.

Morgan shook his head. "Oh. My."

"Lord," Chuck finished.

She didn't make eye contact, didn't glance twice in Chuck's direction, just as her training required of her.

Instead she sashayed over to the other end of the club, sizing up the room, trying to decide on a mark.

Chuck, on the other hand, couldn't, wouldn't take his eyes from her. He was sure no one noticed, probably because every other guy was staring at her too.

And if they weren't, they should've been.

Chuck sighed. It was going to be a long night.

And it was. He had to listen as Sam flirted with some blond, trust fund baby named Matt. Had to watch and restrain himself as the guy ran his hand over her arm.

Had to listen to their laughing flirtation. He'd told the bartender to keep the shots coming. Had to watch and Mark took Sam's hand and wrote on it with a Sharpie.

"Chuck, you've got to get a handle on this," Morgan told him. "She's hot, but she's not worth losing your job over."

Chuck just shook his head. "I don't what the hell is wrong with me, man. I can't get her out of my head. She's gotten under my skin. So have a lot of things."

It was a good thing Morgan paid attention to the other recruits, because Chuck didn't know if they got their marks' phone numbers on set them on fire with Molotov Cocktails.

The only thing he had noticed was Sam. It had taken three hours, but all of the recruits passed their first field test.

"Mission accomplished," Morgan said to Chuck, who barely heard him.

Chuck nodded, before downing one last shot. Morgan sighed. "Let's get you the hell out of here, and get you some coffee. Maybe a couple of espressos too."

* * *

Sam came back from the Field Test a frenzy of different emotions. She'd spent the majority of the night trying to steal a glance at Chuck.

She gagged as she thought about Matt, with his overpriced cufflinks and nauseating cologne. She'd wiped his number off the moment she'd gotten in the car.

She just wished she could talk to Chuck, ask him how he thought she'd done. Ask him about his first field test. Just talk. But something told her talking to him wasn't an option.

She also wished she'd drank more at the bar. She'd only had one sip of her raspberry rum, and that was because Matt had bought it for her.

Eve came back, absolutely giddy that she'd passed the test. "I'm going to be a Charlie's Angel," she said as she took off her red heels. "You have fun tonight, Sam?"

"A blast," she answered with false cheer. She laid down on her bed, worrying her lower lip.

She wondered if things were always this complicated in clandestine operative training. _Maybe I shouldn't be here. I'm acting like a lovestruck little girl with a crush on my teacher. I wasn't this high school when I was in high school. Does that make me secret agent material?_

Deciding she needed something to distract her brain, she looked over her latest Special Weapons report from Colonel Casey:

**KNIVES AND BLADES:**

**Butcher Knife: 10 of 10**

**Bayonet: 10 of 10**

**Switchblade: 10 of 10**

**Saber: 10 of 10**

**Bodkin: 10 of 10**

**Javelin 10 of 10**

**Samurai: 10 of 10**

**FIREARMS****:**

**Revolver: 8 of 10**

**Pistol: 8 of 10**

**Musket: 8 of 10**

**Rifle: 7 of 10**

She sighed, she needed more practice with rifles. Well, the shooting range was open at all hours. She had nothing better to do.

Chuck was never far from her thoughts, she wondered what he was doing. Was he debriefing his superiors on the progress of the recruits? Was he somewhere chatting with his ex-girlfriend?

She constantly chided herself, she wondered if she even had the right to think such thoughts. Hers was an unusual world. She had no idea training to be a spy would be so complicated.

She figured it would be more difficult that studying to be a teacher. But this was just too much. And it was only her first week!

But what a week it had been. Deciding she couldn't just sit there with her too honest thoughts, she told Eve she'd be back and headed to the range.

The thought of shooting something was eerily soothing.

* * *

Morgan had poured five cups of coffee, three triple-shot espressos, and a hot sauce chaser down Chuck's throat.

Needless to say, he was _**WIDE AWAKE**_ and was probably going to stay that way. He had paperwork to fill out, anyway.

The first Field Test had been a rousing sucesss, the recruits showed excellent initiative, yada, yada, yada. In short, it was over with and they could no move on…and they still had no damn clue who the mole was.

Chuck groaned in frustration. Field Missions were much easier than long-term missions like this one. Your objective was clear, your target was clear. With this, Chuck didn't even know if he was moving in the right direction.

It aggravated him in ways he didn't know was possible. Here he was, at the mission of a lifetime. A mission to end the organization that had taken so much from him. He just wanted to end it. He just wanted to end it before they had a chance to do anymore damage.

"All good things to those who wait," he told himself. This mission called for more patience than any other had ever required. Why couldn't he just go and blow something up?

Well, he couldn't blow anything up, but he could certainly shoot up a bunch of paper targets.

He laughed darkly, thinking about how much he found himself at the shooting range these days. He seemed to need a lot of time for thought.

Nothing about his job had ever seemed so trying, so nerve-wracking.

He didn't know what his next move should be, and that was what frustrated him the most. He was a spy, he was supposed to think four steps ahead.

But right now, he didn't want to think about too much of anything.

So he just headed to the gun range, and to his chagrin, someone else was already there.

"Damn it," he heard a soft, feminine, and all too familiar voice utter after a shot went off.

He considered backtracking out of the range, but somehow he just couldn't.

He didn't know what it was, but it seemed like he couldn't stop running into her. Like something was constantly pushing them into each other.

He walked quietly into the range, nearly startling Sam out of her skin. In an instant, she had her rifle pointed at him.

He put his hands up quickly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

Sam lowered the gun and sighed. "It's fine, I just didn't hear you come in. But that's probably because I'm wearing ear protectors."

"You working on your rifle shot?" he asked nodding to the gun in her hand.

"Yeah," she said with a bit of frustration. "But I can't seem to hit the target dead on. I don't know what it is. My shots keep going too high. And I can't figure out what I'm doing wrong. I'm holding the gun just like Colonel Casey said to."

Chuck smiled. "Maybe I can help. I've fired a few rifles in my day. Show me your stance."

"Ok," Sam picked up the rifle again, assuming her stance and prepared to fire.

"Stop," Chuck said.

"I'm doing something wrong, aren't I?"

He nodded. He stepped behind her, holding her hands over the gun. "First, loosen your grip. Your shots will always miss if you clutch it like that. Second, use your shoulder as a guide. With rifles, you always want to keep it tight in your shoulder."

With his words, he positioned the gun correctly and Sam felt a shiver rush down her spine as she felt his warm breath on her neck.

It almost knocked her over.

"Then always remember to lead the target a little bit, it makes for a perfect kill shot. Or any other shot for that matter. Rifles are best for sniping, so to hit the target, it's best to tilt the gun down just the slightest. And whatever you do, squeeze the trigger, don't pull it."

Chuck wrapped his fingers around Sam's, both gripping the trigger. He slowly removed his, trying not to think about how damp his palm suddenly felt.

"And fire," he whispered in her ear.

Sarah released the trigger, firing perfectly into the target's heart.

Chuck smiled. "Bravo."

She turned to face him.

Maybe it was just all the feelings they were attempting to suppress boiling over, or maybe it was the sound of the gun drowning out the cries of their brains' telling them all the reasons why they should just walk away.

But they didn't walk away. Before either of them had time to rationalize, they were kissing. Not an innocent peck and nothing like the techinical kisses they'd shared during class. It was filled with growing passion and aching desire.

Chuck found himself pulling the gun from her hands and setting it aside, before pulling her tightly in his arms, their lips never parting.

Sam was sure she'd never been kissed so intensely as her hands found their way into his curly hair, urging him to kiss her harder and harder.

And then reality (and the pressing need for air) kicked in. Chuck very reluctantly pulled away from her. He pressed his forehead close to hers, preparing for the speech he knew he was going to have to give.

He let out a long sigh. "We can't do this," he said softly, but firmly.

Sam, eyes still closed, head still spinning, pulled away from him. "We can't?" She looked up at him with intense, searching eyes.

He shook his head. "You're….I'm…we're….We can't. Sam, we've both made a decision to protect something bigger than ourselves. That's what being an operative of the government is all about. I'm your instructor. I'm your guide. I'm supposed to show you how to do that. And right here, whatever this is between us just can't be. For both of our sake's."

She put her head down, knowing he was right, wishing he was wrong.

"I'm not going to lie and say I don't feel it," he continued. "But I am going to be realistic, because I _**can't **_feel it. Not here, not now. You're training is what's most important. I'm supposed to tell you how to do this job without emotional entanglements. And that's the way it has to be, that's the way it's going to be."

She nodded and let go of his hands. She stepped back and pulled herself up to her full height. "You're right, I know. I know that doing this mean that our lives are not our own. But I don't think I realized it fully until now. But I get it."

He reached and touched her face. "Thank you for understanding, Sam."

"Sarah," she corrected, "my name is Sarah."

"Sarah," he said with a nod.

They looked at each other for a moment, then looked up. Sarah knew she didn't have the strength to endure an awkward silence, so she backed away and cleared her throat.

"I'll see you in class then, Bartowski?"

"I see you in class then, Walker."

They exchanged small smiles and headed their separate ways.

Once Chuck got back into his room, his head brain felt lighter. He could rest a little easier knowing that he and "Sarah" had come to an understanding.

He was slightly angry with himself for crossing such a serious boundary, but he'd hoped it was clear that it would not happen again. She said she'd understood. He genuinely hoped she did.

But with that seemingly settled, now he could put all his attention on Volto. Tomorrow was Saturday. He was going to rally the troops and have them go over every piece of information they had, see if anything led to the identity of the mole.

His mind was going over the events of the past week, trying to find an overlooked clue when there was a knock on his door.

At almost two in the morning, it could only be one bearded person.

He walked over to his door, fully expecting to see Morgan. But that wasn't who he saw smiling at him.

"Mom?"


End file.
